Where's Jane?
by musicalsoul85
Summary: Detective Jane Rizzoli wakes up and finds herself at the mercy of a mad man who's made it his sole purpose to break her, physically and mentally. The aftermath will resonate within everyone close to her. Gives a more realistic view of recovery as opposed to the 'beer and banter' quick fix. Eventual Rizzles. Reviews welcomed and appreciated.
1. Where's Jane?

**Where's Jane?**

Key into lock. Twist and push. Push door open, step in and... Home. The stress of today's massive work load finally melted from Doctor Maura Isles' shoulders as soon as she entered familiar territory. Aside from when she was at the morgue, conducting yet another autopsy or analysing evidence for Detectives Jane Rizzoli, Barry Frost and Vince Korsak, (_her _team, she cherished the term like a Mother would her child) this was the one place she felt entirely in control. And Maura liked having control. The sensation of the cool steel of her scalpel against the warmth of her skin gave her a thrill. Although Jane would never quite understand, the rush of adrenaline she experienced out in the field, chasing down criminals, was similar to the sensation that swept over the Doctor when she found herself able to give the body on her table a story. It was all very well and good being able to catch bad guys, slap a set of cuffs on them and send them to prison, but Maura felt it was her job to give the dead a voice. With nimble of fingers and the steadiest of hands, Doctor Isles methodically examined every single lost soul she came into contact with, no matter the circumstances. She speaks for the dead. She is their final spokeswoman. Maura felt that her job was extremely important. It certainly gave her life a sense of purpose and meaning. A life that had so often seemed empty and vacant before she became Medical Examiner and met Jane Rizzoli and her slightly crazy, yet loveable family.

Whilst Maura Isles chopped away at her salad for that evening's dinner, the gentle hum of her favourite composer Bach drifted around the kitchen. She unconsciously matched the pace of her chopping to that particular piece. Although utterly relaxed and content for the first time all week, she simply couldn't fight an insistent pang of regret. Something was missing from her Friday night. She and Jane often spent Friday nights together, unless one of them had arranged a date with yet another prospective boyfriend. Another prospective boyfriend who would soon disappear and leave nothing but material for Jane's snide jokes about men being unable to handle her commitment to her job. Usually, Jane would knock aggressively on her front door and then tumble inside, dragging an excitable Jo behind her on a lead, her overnight bag thrown haphazardly over one strong arm. She would announce her arrival with a low growl at Jo to '_behave!_' in a voice that would most likely cause Maura to become weak in the knees. Jane would go on to complain about how she was wasting away before her very eyes. That would be Maura's cue to get cooking or produce a takeout menu for the two of them to peruse and argue over. Maura was willing to admit (but only to herself) that she missed having the Detective getting under he feet, protesting the fact there was far too much '_green stuff'_ in their meal, and that the Doctor's taste in alcoholic beverages was, '_frankly appalling._'

Since the age of eight, Maura knew the human digestive system like the back of her hand. Therefore she was acutely aware of the dangers of devouring the contents of one's plate within three minutes, as Jane often did. So she ate slowly and delicately as always, her mind thoroughly preoccupied with the raven haired Detective's no-show. After dinner, Maura settled down to read the latest Shakespeare novel she had managed to source. There was nothing quite like one of Shakespeare's great plays. With a copy of "Othello" clutched in one hand and a cup of camomile tea in the other, the good Doctor sank into her comfortable couch, ready to unwind before going to bed. Maura spent most of the next hour flicking aimlessly through page after page, squinting at references she couldn't quite fathom before realising she had entirely forgotten what had happened in the previous scene. She was frustrated, more at herself than anything else. But it was nevertheless a strange phenomenon that Jane hadn't at least called her. '_It's not as if we're a couple,_' Maura scolded herself internally, her heart fluttering at the very thought of being in a relationship with Jane. '_Jane is her own person. She can do whatever she pleases on her Friday nights._' But as the minutes ticked by Maura's internal struggle only intensified. Her heeled boots clicked mercilessly against the kitchen floor as she paced back and forth, unable to shake the feeling that somehow, she needed to call her friend. Eventually she gave in and picked up the phone. Her skilled fingers punched in a very familiar number and she waited. There was no response. She wasn't greeted by the Detective's gravelly voice. She tried Jane's mobile to no avail. Whilst she quickly punched in the same number for the third time, Maura calmly told herself that her friend had simply forgotten to charge her phone, or was out enjoying herself. Much like Maura should be doing, except she was standing in her kitchen growing more concerned with each passing second. A knot of unease had formed in the pit of her stomach, and she knew nothing would shift it until she made contact with Jane Rizzoli.

"Detective Frost? Yes it's Doctor Isles, good evening. I'm very sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you have heard from Jane today? I've called her cell a few times, but as of yet she hasn't answered." Even to her own ears her voice sounds slightly strained. But Maura privately congratulates herself for being able to ask that question as if it meant nothing, as if it were trivial. Perhaps that was because her concern was unfounded. Still... She wanted to make sure. After Dominick Bianchi kidnapped Jane all those months ago, Maura couldn't help but feel slightly panicky whenever Jane was MIA for more than a couple of hours. It was entirely rooted in paranoia, but still, Maura was aware of how much danger Jane was permanently in, especially being a woman on the force. Maura's concern was only amplified ten fold by Frost's reply. "Sorry Maura, haven't seen her since this morning… I heard she was heading out to talk to the hotel staff again. I'll give Korsak a call and ask him if he's checked in on her today." Ah of course, the murdered woman in the hotel room. A locked room murder mystery if ever there was one. Seemingly, not a soul entered the room after Miss Juliette Marquez checked in at nine o'clock Tuesday evening. And yet she was found with vivid ligature marks around her pretty neck, a definitive homicide. To calm her raging emotions, Maura slowly counted from one to twenty, endlessly chastising herself for 'making a whole something outta nothing' as Angela Rizzoli had once said. Maura instantly felt isolated once more when the line went dead and Frost's voice left her ear. Immediately, she found herself punching in yet another number. She was unaware of the fact her fingers had turned a frosty white from clutching the kitchen counter so hard that to the naked eye, it might seem she was close to snapping the damn thing off. "Hello? Frankie, it's Maura…"

Upon realizing that no-one had seen or even spoken to Detective Jane Rizzoli since ten o'clock that morning, Doctor Maura Isles found herself doing something entirely uncharacteristic; breaking every single speed limit on her way to Jane's apartment with a complete disregard for the law she normally upholds with the greatest of respect. A low grunt of determination burst free of her mouth and Maura slammed her foot down so hard against the accelerator she felt cramps start to seize her calf muscles. But she didn't stop. She didn't even slow her pace in the slightest. She didn't let up until she was outside Jane's apartment building. All decorum dissipated into the chilly night air along with any remaining thoughts that didn't contain Jane. In fact, Maura found herself repeating that name in her head like some sort of mantra. She was almost praying, praying that Jane had turned her phone off and drifted off into a deep sleep after a tiring day. Praying that when she burst into her friend's apartment, all wide eyed and out of breath, the lanky Detective would wake, startled, roll off the couch with a thud and glare indignantly up at her for the intrusion. Doctor Isles had never believed in the falsity of wishing and praying, but right now she was willing to bargain with any god, pray to any being, wish on any star, that her best friend, the woman she secretly loved, was in that apartment.

There was no answer. Even after all her insistent ringing, the bell squealing into the apartment again and again and again, there was no answer. Her heart pounded hard against her ribcage. She knew she should still be reasonably calm. Surely there was an explanation for Jane's absence today? The key Jane entrusted her with a few months ago (a moment she had replayed in her mind so many times she could recite every word and picture every expression, however tiny it may be, from memory) found its way into the lock and turned easily, revealing the familiar surroundings in all its aching emptiness. "Jane! Jane are you here?!" Her voice was shrill, panicked, but she can't help it. The answer made itself evident in the silence. Empty. No Jane. No Jo and no Jane. The red light on the answering machine seemed to glare at her accusingly. Her useless, pathetic messages were stored on there. What use were they? Maura called Detective Barry Frost for the second time that night, and as soon as she heard his voice, she couldn't help the tears that scorched the back of her throat and poured down her face. "She's not here Detective. She's not here..." A pained sob tore out of her body. "Where's Jane?"


	2. Caged

(Sorry everyone, I know that we're not supposed to write messages here, but I'm new to this and I can't work out how to add an Author's note or whatever it is, if anyone can help please do! Also, to answer a couple of queries, I will be updating as often, and as soon as possible. And I have a pretty good idea of where I'm taking this story, but yes, it will be quite dark at some points, and it's rated M for future chapters! Always happy to hear your thoughts!)

Drip.

Drip.

Drip drip drip.

Detective Jane Rizzoli groaned under her breath, wriggling around in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that had built up in her arms. '_Must have fallen asleep on the couch again,_' she mused. And goddamn it. She had to get that freakin' leaky faucet fixed or she was gonna go out of her mind. However, it soon became clear to the drowsy Detective that wherever she was, it most certainly was not her apartment, nor was she resting upon her comfortable couch. It was cold. Cold and damp. Jane tried to force open her eyes and subsequently started to panic. She couldn't open them. Her eyelids felt heavy and almost... Glued. Glued together. And then she felt the chains. She was chained to the wall like... Like some fucking _animal._ Her heartbeat rocketed as she fought to prise the stubborn lids apart, muttering a string of curses in a low growl. A bolt of terror shot through her. She recognised these sensations, this feeling of being utterly and completely disconnected from one's body. She had been drugged. And judging by the throbbing inside her skull, she had probably been knocked out with one heavy blow. Jane's mind immediately screamed HOYT. '_But_', she reminded herself, trying to remain calm even as the horror of her situation became increasingly apparent, '_I killed that bastard._' So, unless Hoyt had somehow managed to bring himself back from the dead, someone else had her this time. Some other psycho. Someone fucking else who wanted her dead. A name and an achingly familiar face drifted into her mind's eye whilst she fought against the sluggishness her body was suffering at the hands of whatever the hell he had doped her up with. Maura. Her stomach clenched, '_I was alone when he grabbed me_,' she thought to herself desperately, '_Maura's okay_.' Her pathetic reassurances rang mockingly false. How the heck could she know for sure that Maura was safe? For all she knew this guy could be another Hoyt. Another sick sonuvabitch who might make her watch as he forced himself on her friend. That thought brought her closer to the edge of losing her sanity more than this cell, more than her physical pain, more than the stark terror of what could lay in store. If anything happened to Maura she knew that it would ruin her. It would kill her.

The cage was small. It was large enough to accommodate Jane, a rancid blanket that was stained with things she would rather not think about, a waste bucket and not much else. The cage appeared almost handmade, as if someone had painstakingly taken a shovel and specifically formed this rather oddly shaped cell. And the door ahead particularly drew the Detective's attention. It looked pretty beat up, as if it might fall to pieces at any second. The wooden board slanted to the left and came into contact with the 'bars' of her prison. The rotting wood stank, and the smell caught in the back of Jane's throat, causing her to gag. Internally, Jane scoffed at the haphazard alignment of the wooden slats that prevented a clear view into the darkened area beyond her cage. Her private gloating disappeared as soon as she realise that whoever had her didn't require a stronghold to keep her a prisoner. She was chained to the wall. There would be no opportunity to kick down his pathetic door and escape.

Jane Rizzoli forced herself to remember her training. Not that all the training in the world could ever prepare someone for being imprisoned and chained up like a disobedient dog. She slowly dragged her gaze around the make shift cell, drinking in every detail possible in the dim light that pooled beneath the door and peeked through the wooden boards. Jane committed the layout of the room to memory, closing her eyes and encouraging herself to form a complete image of her surroundings. _When_ she managed to free herself, she would know exactly where to run to. There would be no stumbling around in the dark, tripping over blankets and buckets. In a situation such as this, there was no room for error if an opportunity to run appeared by some blessed miracle. And despite the fact the silence that shrouded her prison was all but deafening, when the screaming began she would have given anything, done anything, to return to the false security of silence.

The screams were long, drawn out and torturous to bear witness to. They were the screams of the damned. The screams of a thousand damned souls swimming in their own clouds of despair in hell. And yet, the Detective can't help but feel a surge of kinship with whoever was producing those hideous screams of pure unadulterated agony. She wasn't alone here. There were other people locked up like fucking animals. It made her sick to her stomach. Listening to those scream and not being able to do a damn thing about it made every muscle in her body burn with the desire to yank her restraints from the damp, moss covered wall and rescue her fellow prisoner. Adrenaline surged through her, filling her lungs with air and her brain with white noise. It was a familiar sensation, and it worked well in terms of providing a sense of comfort in this hell hole. That was, until a woman stumbled past her cell, clad in nothing but a long, blood splattered shirt. Her entire body seemed to be dripping in the stuff. In another time, another place, the woman might have looked almost comical, as though dressed for a night of debauchery at a Halloween party. But here, wherever _here_ bloody well was, it merely served as the signature on the death warrant Jane had drawn up in her mind upon seeing the blood streaked legs of the woman flash through the wooden bars. Yet that sight was nothing compared to the laughter. Oh god the insidious chuckle that resonated beneath the door and curled into Jane's ears like smoke almost caused her to start weeping then and there. That laugh came from a man who was enjoying himself immensely and was taking great satisfaction from something. The laugh of a man who had just won the lottery, or landed a date with the most beautiful woman in work, or witnessed his child take his first steps. Jane bit down on a hoarse shout of terror as the man who snatched her away from her family and her job and Maura rammed an object similar to the baton she had used only twice in her entire career against the sloppily placed door. A flash of white appeared between the boards. His teeth. They looked impossibly white in the gloom. He was leering at her, mocking her, challenging her... And his words were a promise of things to come. "I give everyone a head start." And with that, he tore himself away from Jane's cage and walked calmly after his screaming, terrified prey.


	3. She's My Everything

(To provide an answer to another query, no this story is not intended to bear any resemblance to 'The Hunger Games.' In all honesty I've never gotten round to seeing the movie or reading the books, although I do know the basic plot line. And yes, without giving too much away, this guy gets his kicks from breaking 'strong, independent women.' And, he likes the thrill of the chase. Also my apologies for the long chapters and build up, there's just a lot of stuff I want to get through and I tend to get carried away a bit. Again, feel free to leave suggestions, reviews or constructive criticism etc!)

'_Whatever you want, I can get it.'_

Doctor Maura Isles now understood the meaning of those words. Their roles had been reversed and she knew in her heart that if she could take Jane's place, she would. Without hesitation. She knew that a life without Jane would be soulless and meaningless. There would be no more laughter, no more shared grins and slight touches, no more fervid glances, no more teasing arguments, no more overwhelming sensation of safety and security. It seemed like a hundred years ago now since the day her biological father, Patrick 'Paddy' Doyle, snatched her from the morgue in order to offer her protection in his own twisted way. Upon hearing those immortal words leave the mouth of Detective Jane Rizzoli and echo through the phone clutched tightly in Doyle's hand with such... _Intensity_, Maura knew that she could no longer deny her feelings. At least, not to herself. The fear in Jane's voice had been real and raw. Maura couldn't help but wonder if every person who has ever been in love can recall the exact moment a bright, hot flash of realisation struck them right between the eyes and changed their life forever. For the good Doctor, those words, uttered in the hoarse voice that was the very essence of Jane Rizzoli, forced everything in her life into perspective. She was fully aware of the Detective's rather conservative nature; she was nowhere near as open as Maura when it came to all things sexual. So she had buried her feelings. The impeccable, immaculate, infallible, reasonable, sensible Doctor Isles gathered together all her raging emotions and tucked them neatly inside a compact little box in her mind. She then stacked that box on top of all the other boxes of things she couldn't, or wouldn't, deal with.

For perhaps the three hundredth time in the two days since Jane had first gone missing, Detective Barry Frost slowly rewound the surveillance footage of that morning and pressed play. He and Detective Vince Korsak had memorised every frame, every face, every plate, every single goddamn second of that footage was ingrained in their minds. And still, they had found barely a scrap of anything that was remotely useful.

"Play it again." Korsak's voice was nothing more than a deep rumble from the back of the room. He hadn't slept in over 38 hours, and he wasn't about to rest anytime soon. Without a word, Frost hit the play button and leaned back in his chair. Two pairs of sharp, unrelenting eyes followed the scene playing out in front of them. The man was dressed in black from head to toe, a cap pulled down low over his face. He wasn't overly tall or overtly large in any way, yet his malicious presence seeped from the screen. The cool confidence he exuded as he casually sidled up behind Jane, who was making her way towards the hotel with her customary swagger, and inserted what they can only assume is a needle containing a sedative into her neck, was chilling. He then proceeded to simply sweep Jane into his arms and deposit her in a vehicle just outside the peripheral view of the surveillance camera. The entire spectacle only lasted around ten seconds. Ten seconds. That's all it took.

Frost had been working on his speech for the press conference looming on the horizon. Detective Frost had never been a fan of the press. They had their noses where they didn't belong in far too many areas and situations that should be kept confidential. However, if standing up in front of a room full of those vultures led to a member of the public contacting them with useful information, he was willing to do it. Hell, he would do anything to bring Rizzoli back. Although he might never say it aloud he held his partner in the highest possible regard. His respect for her, rather than decline over the years, had only grown and manifested itself in what was almost a brother-sister relationship. He trusted her with his life, and she in turn trusted him with her own. That bond was something Frost was not going to give up without a fight. And when he found the sonuvabitch who had snatched her, well he was damn well going to find out what happened to people who mess with his family.

When the door opened, both Detectives Frost and Korsak heads snapped up, hoping that someone had information, hoping that Frankie had arrived back at the station with a concrete witness statement after canvassing the area surrounding the hotel parking lot, even hoping that Jane would saunter through with a devilish grin saying, _'Hey boys, hope I didn't have ya too worried, April Fools!' _But it was Maura who entered. Korsak winced at the sight of her. She looked so damned lost. He couldn't imagine what would happen to the Doctor if they didn't find Jane in time. She looked at them with such naked hope that it broke their hearts to report that they had nothing, absolutely nothing new. Maura bit her lip and bumped her hip onto Jane's desk, ignoring the wrinkles that appeared on her designer dress for the first time in years. Jane would be proud of her.

"I feel so... Useless. What good am I with no body to examine, no evidence to analyse, no..." Her mind finished the sentence for her; '_No Jane._' Korsak reached out a fatherly hand and squeezed her arm gently.

"C'mon Doc, don't talk like that. Jane's a fighter, you know that, and so are you." The blonde's bottom lip trembled and she had to use every ounce of the meagre amount of self control she had left to prevent the tears that threatened from spilling out of her eyes.

"We'll get a break soon," Frost said with a confidence he didn't necessarily have, "Someone'll see the press conference tonight and remember something. We'll get a tip off. We will." He said firmly, flicking the computer screen back and settling down to start poring over the timeline they had established. Privately, Maura wondered whether he was trying to convince her, or himself.

"No personal contact information is collected by the Boston Police Department unless given by the individual himself. Tips are completely anonymous to the Department and are only traceable using the six digit code given to you upon contact." Doctor Maura Isles fell back on her vast knowledge. Usually, Jane would be around to roll her eyes and mutter something along the lines of _'God it's torture_ _sometimes_' or '_Yeah I get it googlemouth._' The resounding silence after her description left her feeling bereft.

"The problem with anonymous tips is that they are often based on misconstrued personal motivation, or unfounded evidence." She finished quietly. The two Detectives shared a glance. They both knew that receiving a helpful tip was rare in cases such as this one. The Doctor was right, as always, but the information did nothing to quell their fears.

Maura Isles had been rendered useless. She was sure that her emotional turmoil must surely be having an affect on her physical appearance. It was as though she had lost a limb. No, not even a limb, for the loss of a limb can be overcome by those with the desire to thrive in the face of adversity. Maura knew that if she were to lose Detective Jane Rizzoli, there would be no determined battle to overcome her pain and sorrow. She would simply curl up into a little ball and wait for death to claim her, to take away the pain. Such morbid thoughts achieved nothing of course; the relentlessly scientific and logical part of her brain assured her of that. But Jane wasn't here to help her fight the breathtaking terror, Jane wasn't here with a grin and a joke and a light touch to make it all okay. Jane was her safe harbour, her anchor, her other, better half. Jane, if she were to be entirely honest with herself, was her everything. Maura Isles had never classed herself as a 'fighter.' She was more likely to try and resolve the situation with statistics relevant to the topic of the disagreement and the likelihood of an amicable outcome. However, there was one person that she would always fight for, and right now, that person needed her to be strong. And she'd be damned if she let Jane Clementine Rizzoli down.


	4. And Darkness Comes

(In response to a review posted, all will become clear eventually with regards to the character's background and his motivations, I've still got a long way to go with this story. It may be more personal than we first assume. I'm sure Jane, despite her predicament, will succeed in getting inside this guy's head. Fair warning for this chapter, there will be some descriptions of violence, which may be slightly disturbing, so if that's not something you'd like to read, I would perhaps skim over some parts. Thanks for sticking with this so far, and feel free to leave any comments, reviews or queries.)

Jane Rizzoli was no stranger to pain. She's suffered, both psychologically and physically, at the hands of more than one violent offender. The palms of her hands were pierced viciously by Charles Hoyt, rendering them useless for months. She put a bullet through her own body for chrissakes. She suffered gut wrenching agony for many weeks and months as a result. She was Detective Jane Rizzoli, she could take it. But this was different. This was nothing but pain, pain, pain. No relief. No respite. No cool, calming touch of the experienced Doctor Isles to soothe the agony, provide comfort and a sense of blessed relief. All she wanted was to be held in the arms of her best friend. The arms that, although perfectly proportional to her petite body, were so much stronger than they first appear. Much like the Doc herself. All she wanted was to lie side by side with the smaller woman, laugh with her and feel her reassuring warmth against her own body. But Jane knew that whatever might have happened between them, had she only grown a set of goddamn balls and admitted her feelings, was now impossible. She would never kiss Doctor Maura Isles. She would never feel her, hold her, touch her or taste her. She was going to die alone. Alone in the dark and in pain.

His latest prey was screaming. Oh how he relished it when they screamed. They all start differently, some of them scream from the very moment he lifted the whip and dangled it almost teasingly before their eyes whilst they lie, immobilised, upon what he likes to call his 'Work Station.' Others are able to withstand the first few cracks of the whip against the bare skin of their backs. Some of the rare animals even last to stroke number five, but those were damned hard to find. He fashioned his preferred instrument of torture himself. A short comfortable handle which nestled snugly in the palm of his well practiced hand, attached to a few thin strands of leather, one of which contained a small knot near the bottom of that particular length of material. He ha used his whip so many times now that it had almost become an extension of himself. They were at one with each other. The whip can respond to him in a manner most humans fail to achieve; with complete compliance. Sometimes, he and the whip encounter one of the rarer breeds of the animals. One that, in the correct circumstances, might prove dangerous to them both. '_But,_' he assured himself, stroking the whip gently with one calloused finger, '_She's ours now. She won't hurt us.'_

"Why don't you just scream Janie? You will eventually succumb to the pain; why not simply embrace it now?" Jane blinked sweat and unshed tears from her eyes and injected every ounce of hatred she could muster into the unblinking glare she had latched onto him when she first woke. She was yet to turn away.

"Fuck you." She snarled, spitting out at the only part of him she could reach; his feet, clad in expensive looking loafers. His low chuckle turned her stomach over and she fought valiantly against the bile that insistently climbed the back of her throat like an intrepid mountaineer.

"Oh tut tut Detective, would Doctor Isles approve of such vile language?" Jane bucked violently against the cords binding her to what resembled an autopsy table, much like the ones she came into contact with every single day. At the mention of that familiar name, Jane jerked up, her eyes wild, her expression rabid and filled with the intense fury one could only summon when confronted with something so hateful, so evil, that words were not enough to convey the immense loathing writhing inside.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME!" She howled, her voice breaking on the last syllable. She didn't care. She didn't care about anything except making sure that sweet name never crossed his fucking lips ever again. Although his face was still shrouded in darkness, Jane was sure that she could make out rugged stubble and piercing blue eyes on the face of her tormentor. She was also sure that they had never crossed paths before. Jane Rizzoli didn't easily forget faces. Her experience in the field had taught her that if you want to stay alive, then you have to remain focussed on the people you surround yourself with, indirectly or purposefully. '_Pity,_' she thought with a rueful grimace, '_Could have been doing with a little more of that sensitivity training. Perhaps I could have politely offered to buy him a beer in the Dirty Robber to talk things through._' The whip swiping through the air with a distinct whistling sound that instantly froze every particle of her being put an end to her thoughts. The pain was instant and overwhelming as the material opened fresh wounds and sliced deeper into existing ones. And she finally screamed. Jane Rizzoli screamed and screamed as she felt her own wet, warm blood soak into her skin, her jeans, and the table she was lying trussed up on like a damn Christmas turkey. He allowed her a minute to recover before bringing the whip down again. He slammed it into her back with a ferocious grunt, causing yet more screams to tear free from her burning throat.

"Tell me to stop. Just say stop." He purred delicately, bending down to whisper in Jane's ear. She twisted her head just enough to stare into his eyes. Her tongue pushed against her bottom lip, tasting sweat and tears and blood. She looked deep into his eyes. She was close enough to see the tiny wrinkles etched lightly into tanned, weather beaten skin.

"Fuck. You." She hissed. Before the second word even fully left her mouth, he had reared back and brought the whip down for the third time in roughly the same number of minutes. The pain was so bright and all consuming it brought stars bursting onto Jane's vision. It started in the cuts and resonated through her entire body, beyond skin and muscle and bone, directly into the very core of her being. And it throbbed. The pain echoed and throbbed in the most awful drumming beat known to man kind. He had beaten her on the first day. He had left her a bloody, broken, beaten mess of bruises, cuts, abrasions and internal agony. He had burned her the second day. He had produced a tiny match and held it against the soles of her feet whilst she howled out every curse, every threat that she could possibly think of. But that was nothing, nothing compared to this. These... Searing, white hot strips of fire upon her skin. Skin she had bathed, cleaned and taken for granted. Skin that would now bear these scars for the rest of her life. If they even had the chance to develop into scars. Jane sobbed, great heaving sobs that wracked her body, leaving her breathless.

The Detective laid there, a shivering, bloody wreck. She watched warily through bleary eyes as he lovingly washed the blood from the instrument in his hands using a damp sponge. "Why are you doing this?" The words slipped out of her in a raspy growl before she could stop them. Her question gave him pause for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, filled only by Jane's laboured breathing, he slowly turned back to face his victim and offered her an almost genuine smile. Almost. The look he gave her bore some resemblance to the look one might grant a young child, one who had misunderstood something of great importance and needed a patient explanation.

"Because you're my greatest challenge Detective Rizzoli. I want to break you down and leave your rotting corpse somewhere your precious Doctor Isles will find you. And I want to watch her cry over your lifeless body."


	5. A Helping Hand

"Korsak we gotta give this guy a chance. Maybe he'll have something that'll at least point us in the right direction. Right now, we got nothing. We need all the help we can get." Detective Barry Frost pleaded with his superior. The older man kept his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him. Over the past few years the two men had seen each other at their best and their worst. They were more than just colleagues, they were also friends. Korsak, although he knew better than to come right out and say it, regarded the young Detective as an honorary son. And so their difference of opinion on this matter was taking its toll.

"I don't want this to distract us. What if it turns out his perpetrator is absolutely nothing to do with Jane? What if it's just a waste of time?" Korsak asked, rubbing a hand roughly over the stubble marring his jaw. Frost lowered his head and took a deep breath; fully aware of the fact his next words were of optimum importance.

"Sir, we're running out of time and options. The press conference turned up nothing useful, we don't have anything to go on; no leads. I'm just as scared as you are, and of course I'm concerned this could be a mistake... But we need to hear him out. A well respected man like Carson wouldn't offer to help unless he thought he really knew something." The younger man stopped, sensing he had struck the right chord with his colleague and father figure. Korsak tapped one finger against the surface of his desk and then nodded.

"Let's do it." He said with absolute finality.

Lieutenant Ronald Carson was a well respected and well known member of the San Francisco police Department. Earlier that morning he had called Cavanaugh and informed him that he had some information that could potentially help them locate the unidentified subject of their investigation. Now, the Lieutenant was of course nervous about getting involved. Cross wiring investigations could prove catastrophic unless handled with the greatest amount of caution. Carson maintained, with an almost religious fanaticism, that every single police officer had one particular case, or one single perpetrator, that stays with them. Perhaps it is the first offender they arrest, their first casualty, the first man they raise a gun to in a hostile situation. Or perhaps it's a violent offender whose crimes haunt their waking thoughts and restless dreams. In other circumstances, it could be a criminal they have been pursuing for years without ever coming close to apprehending them. For Carson, that was it. His career was exemplary, everything bar star studded. He was well liked, well respected, well trained and experienced in a number of fields, from narcotics and vice to homicide. But there was one case and one man that haunted him. He had been keeping his ear low to the ground for many years, hoping that eventually his guy would slip up and reveal himself. His particular Modus Operandi was unmistakeable. There were a number of factors that gave him away; he always picks a strong, independent, attractive, dark haired woman, he grabs them in broad daylight, he keeps them for five days and in that time, he subjects them to varied degrees of torture. He and his old partner, coupled with their Medical Examiner, determined that aside from the torture, the victims are treated remarkably well. They are fed, watered and remain clothed for the most part. However, it soon became clear that these actions were not ones rooted in misplaced remorse. The truth was much worse. The offender wants them to stay healthy enough to run. The chase was his signature. The abduction of Detective Jane Rizzoli had hit headlines in Boston, and then spread across the internet like a virus, before finally reaching San Francisco. Carson's gut feelings had served him well over the years, and he was willing to bet his career, his house, his wife, his kids and his treasured signed Red Sox jersey that the man responsible was the same man he had spent years hunting. A string of damn near identical crimes occurred on his turf over the course of five years. And then they suddenly stopped. Carson figured the perp found himself inside on account of other charges, or ended up getting himself killed. But he also gave thought to his perp upping sticks and moving someplace else. Therefore he'd been keeping tabs on media releases and maintaining relationships with Detectives in other states. Detective Jane Rizzoli disappearance caught his attention. He thought, no goddamnit he _knew,_ that this was his guy at work once again.

"Detective Frost, Detective Korsak, Doctor Isles, I'm truly grateful that you're taking the time to hear me out." Frost was slightly surprised by the man's appearance. The Detective's face, which took up the majority of the screen on the wall opposite himself and his two friends, was far younger and more open than he had expected it to be. From his reputation and long list of successes, one would be forgiven for thinking he was at least middle aged, probably complete with a pot belly. Instead, they had been greeted by warm baby blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair that gave him the look of an oversized school boy. They weren't fooled by his innocent appearance. Frost, before agreeing to this virtual meeting, looked up his file. The baby faced man before them knew how to handle himself. In hand to hand combat, Frost knew that this man could take out almost any assailant.

"I'm taking the liberty of emailing you my case files, along with my personal notes and conclusions. Please, I assure you there is nothing I would hate more than wasting precious time. But, the similarities are just too evident to ignore." Doctor Maura Isles found that she had immediately warmed to the eloquent Lieutenant Carson. His eager and yet sensitive demeanour instantly enamoured him to her. Time was slipping by faster than she could even bear to consider. With every passing minute, Maura knew that her chances of seeing Jane Rizzoli again were being slashed mercilessly. She realised that tears were starting to pool in her eyes, which were red and itchy from exhaustion. There had been no rest to be had for any of them for the past few days. Hallucinations begin by day four. She was counting the seconds until the point of no return.

The Lieutenant led them through the case files quickly, sensing the growing urgency building in the Boston Police Department. Almost every cop in the city was out looking looking for Jane Rizzoli. Desperation hung thick in the atmosphere. He succinctly summarized each victim's appearance, occupation, skillfully underlining exactly how similar each of them were, both in terms of physicality and personality and tactfully skimming over the various mentions of torture. He didn't have to point out the fact not one victim had ever been found alive; they could all see the crime scene photos for themselves. Once the Lieutenant had completed his summary, his eyes clouded with sympathy. Although the three people on the screen before him were miles away, their love for Jane Rizzoli was almost palpable. He was sure they would do anything to get her back safe. To finish, Carson took a deep breath and said,

"He usually dumps the bodies in places he knows they're sure to be found sooner rather than later, he likes the credit, he thrives on fear and media attention, and he's more than likely to have already injected himself into the investigation in an attempt to prove, both to himself and to us, that he is superior in every way. Check your witness statements, be wary of informants, and record every tip... He'll be there somewhere. He's in there somewhere." Just as the final instruction left the young Lieutenant's lips, three cell phones started ringing in quick succession. It was with a shared sense of dread that those phones were pressed hurriedly to ears.

"Frost."

"Korsak."

"Doctor Isles."

Their voices merged together and formed one unanimous note of terror and grief. Doctor Maura Isles felt her legs give way before she could process what was being uttered into her ear. Detective Frost caught her just before she hit the floor and they stood there in silence. They clutched one another as though if they were to let go they would simply float through the ceiling, towards the sky and into nothingness. They gazed at Detective Korsak, their eyes wide and glassy. The older man slowly lowered his cell phone and stared right through them, his face white and his jaw hanging open. Only nine words had been necessary to send the two hardened, confident, experienced officers, and the logical, cool headed Doctor, into the realms of hell itself.

"A body's been found. It matches Detective Rizzoli's description."


	6. The Bitter Taste Of Regret

Sorry this took so long to update, it's been a busy couple of weeks. Hope it was (just about) worth the wait! As always, reviews and suggestions are welcome.

Bones. That happened to be the first thing she noticed as she stares long and hard at the body. They jut out in every direction, almost as if they might break through the delicate flesh at any given moment, bringing forth either a splatter of blood or a ripping noise, perhaps like the tearing of paper. Even before death, her cheekbones were well defined, and despite the decaying influence of death itself, the face nevertheless retains some of its former beauty. And that only makes the situation all the more sorrowful. The collarbones in particular caught her attention. She felt if she were to graze them only lightly with the back of her hand, upon its removal a jagged cut would remain in its wake and beads of blood would fall as a result of the contact. The rib cage is also well defined and far too prominent for a woman of this age and height. In the back of her mind she wondered if she were to tap each bone with a wooden instrument, would they make a different sound? Could she create a tune with those bones? Such thoughts were of course absurd, but in here, wasn't everything slightly so? Weren't all the lines of privacy blurred? Didn't we all have the right to think absurd thoughts when faced with a corpse? She didn't know, but she wouldn't ask. And so that was fine. The pelvic bones looked dangerously fragile, and she suspected a fracture. Further investigations were of course necessary and she never guessed, only suspected, surmised, considered. '_Practice makes perfect, or as near to perfect in one's profession as can be achieved,'_ she supposed. She knew the structure of this body from memory. The legs should be toned, well defined with muscle, pillars of strength for the body. Not these skinny, pathetic offerings, easily breakable, if she was so inclined. Bones, evident in that emaciated body. Bones. All two hundred and six of them. Without equipment, the Doctor thought she could count every single one.

Even in death she was so beautiful. Dark, unruly hair framed a painfully pale face, and eyes that once shone with the vitality of life and youth now stared ahead, unblinking. The spark of awareness that brought one's face to life had been cruelly stolen from her. A body which was once healthy and strong, now only looked sad and broken in death. Abrasions, burns, lacerations and bruises all marred delicate skin which was filthy and torn from running barefoot and bare legged through what Doctor Maura Isles had concluded to be thick undergrowth. In her meticulous examination she had found an overwhelming amount of evidence, ranging from a consistent material consistent with leather found in the deep lacerations on her back to skin traces under grimy fingernails to an unusually high amount of toxins in her bloodstream. The victim had either refused the foods offered to her or was not presented with such luxuries that the others encountered. Doctor Isles sent blood samples to the lab to be analysed. She had made it perfectly clear to Senior Criminalist Susie Chang that she wanted those toxicology reports back in less than three hours. She instructed the younger woman to focus her every effort on those particular samples. If she could get a name for the drugs found in the victim then perhaps... Perhaps it might give her evidence that might lead to Jane. Perhaps this poor woman could save another life. Perhaps she wouldn't die in vain. Maura had to cling to that thought, that small glint of hope. For if she was to entertain the notion that it was also too late for Jane Rizzoli she would surely lose herself. Her brilliant mind would snap and be rendered useless.

Angela Rizzoli's eyes were little more than bloodshot slits from all the helpless crying she had been doing. She simply couldn't stop the tears. This was her _daughter_ for god's sake. Her baby girl. And some mad man had her was doing only god knows what to her beautiful daughter. She had busied herself in the reassuring habits developed through years of Motherhood. Taking care of those left behind was something Angela had become truly adept at over the years. Even her estranged husband had been presented with a cup of coffee and a plate of meatloaf (which hadn't been touched) upon his arrival at the precinct that morning. Now was not the time for dredging up past arguments or mistakes. Now was a time where pulling together was their only option. If they were to consider the possibility that their Janie wouldn't be coming home this time, with her tail between her legs and an impatient enforcement of her 'no hugging' rule then she was sure it would kill her. Her two sons were so incredibly different and yet... Startlingly similar in this dreadful situation. Frankie's just got back from doing 'Jane's gumshoe thing.' And so far, he had amassed nothing but a thin statement from a less than reliable elderly witness of a black Explorer parked near to where Jane was abducted and a basic description matching the man in the surveillance footage. And Tommy's been pounding the streets for three days. He gathered a group of his buddies and they've hardly had a moment's rest. They've been canvassing the area, putting up posters, asking HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN, whilst thrusting a grinning picture of Jane into the faces of strangers. They talked to every hooker, junkie and homeless person they could get to offer information. They gathered a meagre offering of sightings and rumours, all of which might take weeks to follow up. Tommy was here in the cafe with her, and Angela had taken the liberty of wrapping him in the tightest embrace she could muster. For once, he did not fight her. He didn't pull away. He needed her just as much as she needed him in that moment. She was so proud of her boys. They were out there fighting to bring their sister, their hero, back home where she belonged. And that was all she could ask of them.

And then there was Maura. The woman she had taken into her heart and fashioned a permanent spot she would always fill as her honorary daughter. She had entered the cafe two hours ago looking lost and dejected. In fact, the Doctor looked and felt physically unbalanced without the reassuring presence of the lanky, raven haired Detective by her side. Now, Angela may be a little cooky sometimes, a little annoying and more than a little embarrassing, but she certainly wasn't blind. Ever since Maura Isles had appeared so suddenly in her daughter's life she had watched them both blossom. Their friendship, which was so open, full of trust and mutual respect, was something to be treasured and admired. But the elder Rizzoli knew that there was something more. There was no way on this earth these two women could look at each other the way they do, share gentle touches and caresses as though it was the last time they would ever clap eyes on one another. The two women were close, Angela got that, and in any other case she would simply regard them as the sisters they never had. That wasn't an applicable analogy for her daughter and Maura. They completed each other. They had sought one another out in the darkness and gone from strength to strength over the years. Their weaknesses, strengths, backgrounds and lifestyles contrasted deeply, and yet complimented each other perfectly. The love and desire that crackled around them like a magnetic field wherever they went was unmistakable. And now, looking at the slumped form of the Doctor at a single table across the room, Angela decided it was time to ensure there would be no more self delusion. A love as strong and as beautiful as theirs should never be denied, and she'd be damned if she allowed her two daughters to continue down this dangerous path alone.

"You need to eat something Maura; it won't be very helpful if you faint on us." The achingly familiar voice of Angela Rizzoli broke into Maura's reverie and caused her to jump slightly against the table. The younger woman looked up, her eyes wide and almost fearful. Angela offered a gentle smile and placed a plateful of _'rabbit food' _as Jane would distastefully call the lively green salad, down in front of her. Maura's mouth stretched into a pathetic smile of its own and she delicately began picking at the food, if only to placate Angela's concerns. Maura had been secretly hoping Jane's mother would leave her be after presenting her with sustenance, but that was not to be, for she settled in the chair across from the Doctor and laced her fingers together beneath her exhausted face. There was a sense of building expectation. Maura suspected her friend; as good as adopted Mother and confidant had something to say. So she waited patiently, the fork hovering forgotten above the plate of leaves.

"Maura..." Angela's voice was kind and soft, and so like Jane's in that moment that Maura's breath caught in her throat and she physically had to choke down the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "I think it's time you were honest with me... And yourself." It took a few seconds for those words to register in the Doctor's mind, which was worn out from exhaustion and worry and terror. Her mouth gaped open and her hazel eyes bulged. All of which would have been disconcerting to anyone except Angela Rizzoli, who was so used to her daughter reacting in this manner to any comments regarding a more than platonic relationship with her best friend.

"Angela I..." Her voice was strangled, strained and filled with a thousand things she wanted to say, and yet had neither the strength not the inclination to say aloud.

"It's okay honey, I know. And Jane feels the same way. I can see it in your eyes. Both of your eyes."

And soon both women were sobbing in each other's arms. The weight of things that had gone unsaid for so long had been lifted from Maura's shoulders, but in its place came to rest the unforgiving, unrelenting inherent fear that everything she felt towards Jane Rizzoli, and everything she hoped was reciprocated in the Detective, would never be shared between them. Maura Isles wept, she wept because she knew it could prove too late for them. She wept for the love that she had bottled up for so long, she wept for the pain she knew Jane was enduring, she wept because the woman she loved wasn't here to hold her and reassure her that it would all be okay.


	7. Listen To Your Intestines

This was a difficult chapter to write, and as with most fan fiction some suspension of reality is necessary here, because I did cut some corners. Reviews and suggestions are welcome! If you would like to see anything in particular included in the chapters to follow please do not hesitate to say and I will of course do my best to incorporate them.

Doctor Maura Isles had been running her findings during the autopsy through her mind in a continuous stream for the past two and a half hours. She would draw the separate images up in her mind's eye and scroll through her cast amount of medical knowledge in an attempt to decipher exactly how the wounds came to be inflicted upon the victim. There was something rather chilling in the fact this monster had not only used his hands, and various instruments, to inflict pain upon the woman, but he had also taken great pains to ensure the wounds did not succumb to infection. The lacerations on the victim's back were almost certainly the result of a leather whip. Doctor Isles had carefully measured each wound and noted the size of every searing mark on the innocent flesh of the woman Frost and Korsak were currently trying to identify. And yet, despite the violent nature of those wounds in particular, each wound had been carefully stitched. Even the lacerations that had evidently been torn open from repeated rounds of torture had been stitched patiently, the shredded flesh was knitted and ripe for healing, had the woman been alive long enough for such a process to occur. But there was something very strange about this man's handiwork. Doctor Isles didn't encourage guesswork of any kind. In fact, the word was outlawed in her morgue and should any Detective utter the term, she would swoop in and remind them in no uncertain terms that this was a scientific process and guesswork was of no help. _'However,'_ she reasoned with herself, _'Jane isn't here, and so I should at least attempt to convey the analysis she would undoubtedly make if she were present.' _And so that was how the good Doctor found herself pouring over her notes in the cafe, hair that desperately needed washed and styled falling into heavy lidded eyes, becoming both Doctor and Detective. _'Why would someone so intent on causing pain and suffering spend copious amounts of time tending to the wounds he himself inflicted?'_ The injuries found on the victim's body had been stitched with careful consideration and a well practiced hand. However, some of the stitches were slightly misaligned; they weaved and twisted, almost as though the hand trembled during the delicate process. Nevertheless, whoever stitched those wounds was experienced in doing so. Maura closed her eyes and pictured the woman lying on her autopsy table, on her back, still and silent. The marks on her arms were consistent with an intravenous line, more commonly known as an IV._ 'Again, why would he administer narcotics if he knew he was ultimately going to take her life?'_ The evidence simply did not add up.

"Doctor Isles? I have the toxicology results..." Susie Chang's voice brought Maura into the present with a jolt. The pretty, bespectacled young woman was standing directly beside her, holding a folder in one manicured hand. She thrust it forwards, into Maura's open palm. The two women shared a glance, a shared moment of understanding. They had never been close, but they respected each other in a way only trusted colleagues could. Chang always thought the Doctor to be charismatic, yet slightly exasperating. Detective Rizzoli managed to counteract her rather... Challenging manner and both women played off the other's strengths, forming a due to be reckoned with. Susie Chang thought the Doctor she loved in her own way had the look of a shell shocked war veteran, her eyes wide and white and the thousand yard stare she had developed over the past few days seemed to draw those in the immediate vicinity into her suffering. The moment passed. "I wanted you to be the first to see it." Chang stated quietly, and Maura nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you Susie." She rasped, flipping the folder open, her focus at once returning with a fierce intensity to the results that could potentially 'blow this case wide open,' as Frost often said.

Detectives Frost and Korsak sat in absolute silence whilst Doctor Maura Isles stood in the centre of the room and presented the toxicology report's contents to them in a matter of fact, dry tone that would put Doctor Pike to shame.

"Traces of Potassium Chloride were found in the victim's blood. Potassium is a natural salt that is important for the heart, muscles, and nerves. There were also traces of Heparin found in the sample. This is an anticoagulant that can be injected or given intravenously and it is given only in hospitals or clinics." Frost clicked his pen and rubbed tired eyes with a weary hand.

"Well that means our guy must have access to these drugs where he works or…" Frost fought to form another conclusion and found that was the only one his sleep deprived brain could come up with. But Maura seemed satisfied, animated even.

"Precisely! The level of expertise shown in the treatment of the victim's wounds clearly indicate that this perpetrator has a medical background." Suddenly, a thought struck Doctor Isles. A bolt of clarity shot through her entire body, leaving her feeling simultaneously shocked and invigorated. _'So this is how Jane feels when she connects the evidence in a case,' _Maura pondered privately, sliding the tiny pieces of the puzzle around in her brain until something clicked.

"Frost! Play the surveillance footage from the beginning!" The two men were slightly taken aback by Maura's sudden change in demeanor. She had gone from standing demurely in front of them to bounding directly over the screens above them to watch the footage close up and personal.

"Please." The Doctor added as an afterthought after a moment. Despite the horror of the past few days Korsak couldn't help but smile at the woman he had grown to regard as one of the daughters he never had. Just like Janie. In fact, now more than ever, he wished Jane were here to witness the change in the Doctor. The woman who always exercised so much restraint over herself was practically jangling with nervous excitement before the computer screens. The atmosphere became charged with something resembling electricity when the Detectives realised that Maura was onto something. Maura resembled Jane so much as she barked out instructions to the two Detectives that they had to pause for a moment just to collect their bearings.

"Zoom in on the suspect's hand!" Frost did as he was told and the screen was enveloped by a close up view of a gloved hand. "There… Do you see it?!" Maura asked hoarsely. "Play it again!" For the second time, Frost and Korsak watched as a very slight tremor ran through the perpetrator's hand just prior to the abduction. "The stitches were all incredibly precise and yet there was a slight misalignment in every wound! His hand…" Maura stopped; the reality of what she was about to do hit her. _'I don't guess, I never assume, this is something I cannot just air my suspicions about without investigation.' _Frost noted the sheer panic in the Doctor's eyes and slowly got to his feet. When he was standing directly in front of her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

"Doc, do you remember that time you said you don't 'listen to your intestines?' Well I'm afraid we need you to listen to them now. Anything you might be thinking could help us find Jane, and your guess is better than anyone I know. Please Maura, just this once… Do it for Jane." That was all he needed to say, for Maura immediately opened her mouth and let loose a torrent of words.

"Although I cannot accurately determine whether or not my hypothesis is correct without examining the area, I have seen an injury of a similar nature resulting in this uncontrollable tremor. Wrist and hand movement, as well as sensation, are controlled by the ulnar nerve, which runs from the wrist to the shoulder. If the ulnar nerve becomes depressed or constricted due to injury or overuse then a Doctor may suggest surgery to relieve any uncomfortable sensations. However, 1 in 100 people who undergo ulnar nerve surgery experience additional nerve damage as a complication of this procedure. During the procedure, a surgeon may accidentally damage surrounding nerves when attempting to repair the ulnar nerve. Rarely, a surgeon may sever or lacerate the ulnar nerve itself during surgery. Nerve damage complications of ulnar nerve surgery can result in permanent sensations of numbness or weakness within the affected hand, wrist, or arm… And tremours of that nature," Maura nodded towards the screen upon which a frozen image of the hand filled every millimetre.

Within twenty minutes they had Lieutenant Carson back on the line. They asked him to cast a net far back into the past, make some phone calls; do anything possible that could potentially gather information on men in the medical profession who had to desert their position due to a serious injury to the hand or arm. Carson visibly paled when Doctor Isles revealed exactly why the perpetrator knew how to ensure his victims remained alive for as long as he desired. Carson typed fast enough even to rival Frost who was rattling the keyboard he sat hunched over so hard his fingertips surely must hurt with the effort. They both stumbled upon a small segment in the San Francisco Register from seven years ago. The bottom half of page four was dedicated to a Doctor Harold Jefferson. His handsome face appeared on the screen, a jaw marred by stubble, piercing blue eyes filled sockets that were slightly too large for an average sized head. Maura almost collapsed at the sight of his familiar face. She had met him at a conference almost one year ago; he was there to speak about his up and coming novel. She had found him aloof yet gentile, assuredly incapable of something as harrowing as this. _'Oh god, is that why he chose Jane? Did he find Jane through me? '_ The thought almost incapacitated her fully. But she couldn't break down. Not now. No when they were so close. Jefferson was involved in a devastating mountain climbing accident that took the life of his best friend, his best friend's wife and also crushed his arm, ending his career. But there were more sinister undertones in the piece, with the reporter almost suggesting outright that the Doctor had something to do with the untimely deaths of his friends and that his injury was merely an unforeseen mistake. Jefferson had come under fire for some 'unconventional practices' and there was even one looming investigation as a result of an intern who insisted he had threatened her when she refused his advances. They were all thinking it, but Korsak voiced the words they were all too afraid to utter, "He has to be our guy!" And there was hope in his voice for the first time since Jane went missing. After yet more frantic rattling of keys, Frost managed to find an address for a rather isolated cabin, near a woodland area, owned by the distinguished Doctors ex wife and the team dispersed with Frost and Korsak on their cell phones gathering a search party. The pieces of the puzzle certainly appeared to fit, and yet Lieutenant Carson had to privately wonder if perhaps desperation had become their enemy and influenced their findings. All he could do was sit in his office and wait for news to reach him, despite the fact every fibre of his being burned with the desire to be with that search party when and if they found that sorry son of a bitch.


	8. Just Hold On Jane

_When I get outta here I'm gonna knock out every damn tooth in your mouth._

_Just wait 'til I get these chains off me buddy 'cause I'm gonna gut you like a goddamn fish._

_I'ma take my bare hands and I'ma beat your sorry ass so bad every member of your fucked up family's gonna feel it._

_Oh you messed with the wrong cop, 'cause this bitch is gonna show you exactly why you don't fuck with a Rizzoli._

_I'ma take that whip and I'ma shove it so far up your ass that you'll have to pull it outta your fucking mouth if you want it back._

The threats felt good, felt _necessary. _They gave Rizzoli some semblance of control over the situation. They poured fuel over the fire in her belly that just wouldn't quit, even though the pain she was currently in would be enough to knock a grown man out cold. She was going to get out of this shithole if it killed her, if it took every last ounce of her strength, both physically and mentally, she was not going to die here. She'd be damned if she just sat there and twiddled her damn thumbs until he decided it was time to play his twisted game. Fuck that. Just _fuck_ that. This was her _life. _This was her shitty, fucked up, insignificant life but it was _hers _goddamnit, and he wasn't just gonna snatch it away. Jane Rizzoli promised herself that she was going to get out of here if only to tell Maura exactly how she feels about her. She's gonna sit that beautiful, amazing goofball down and she was gonna pour out her soul into her pretty little hands and hope that she catches every drop. Hell she doesn't even care if Maura feels the same way (although she does care, she cares a whole lot) she just wants Maura to _know._ Because if she were to be truly honest with herself, ever since she met Maura it's always been her. Even before she sat with her fifth beer in hand one night and finally owned up to her feelings, just to herself, Maura was never less than everything to her. She wasn't just her best friend, she wasn't even a sister, she was… Maura. Wonderful, intelligent, infuriating, engaging, loveable Maura, and god did she love her. Damn it all to hell she loved that woman with everything she had, every breath she took was for her, every perp she cuffed was for her so the world would be a little bit safer just for Maura, every drop of sweat, every tear, every laugh and every smile… It all belonged to Maura. And so if she was gonna have to snap her thumb to get out of these chains and reach that tiny sliver of metal from what Jane assumed was a hair clip embedded in the dirt then she would snap the thing clean off.

The thing about dislocating your thumb is that it's usually an accident, and people almost always try to put it back in place. A firm pull right above the joint should, if the injury is not terribly serious, pop the joint back into alignment. But when your hand is on fire with agony one could be forgiven for not realizing the exact amount of pressure needed. And the pain in Detective Jane Rizzoli's hand was nothing short of excruciating. _'Fuck the bullet wound, fuck the scalpels… This is worse. Oh Mother of Christ this is worse.' _The thumb on her right hand was twisted almost beyond all recognition. She hadn't intended on pulling it quite that far out of place, but again, how is one expected to know how to dislocate a goddamn thumb properly? A giggle escaped the brunette as she bit down so hard on her cheek that the familiar coppery, warm gush of blood filled her mouth, _'Well here's something they don't teach you at the Academy. Maybe I should become a teacher and take a class on it…' _She paused for breath and then mentally slapped herself across the face. A growl tore free of her parched throat as she berated herself for succumbing to the pain. _'Don't lose your marbles yet Rizzoli,' _she thought to herself. Her once attractive face was now unrecognisable. The frightful, twisted grimace stretched cracked, dry lips into a terrifying snarl. Dried, encrusted blood had latched onto what seemed like every inch of visible flesh, giving the Detective the macabre look of something out of a horror movie. Not that she cared, not that she gave a shit about anything other than snapping her _fucking_ thumb back into _fucking _place...

POP

"ARRGH ya fuckin' bastard!"

Tiny, white spots danced on Jane's vision as her thumb finally, mercifully, popped back into the joint. Salty tears dripped down inflamed cheeks as she fought for control. Step one had been accomplished, now she needed to get to that piece of metal before he came back. And she knew he was coming soon. Her inner body clock had acclimatised to its surroundings, and it was telling her that her time here was almost up. The game was about to begin. Long, rather bony fingers slowly edge along the cold floor with only one destination in mind. Pain erupts all over the Detective's body. She figures she's lost weight, because clothes that fit snugly on her lithe frame before all this now hang loose. She also knows that left untreated, her wounds could kill her. Hell, she doesn't know for sure she's not already dying. Judging by the amount of pain she was in it was surely fucking possible. But when her fingers close around that tiny slip of metal, everything else melts away. A gleam of triumph sparks inside dark eyes, and for a moment, the Detective forgets the current situation. It's almost as if she's in Maura's house and the two of them were having a good natured debate over whether or not it's possible for this or that to happen, and she had just been proven correct in the subject. Jane faltered for a second, completely overwhelmed by the thought of Maura seeing her in this sorry state. Soon, the moment passes and she urgently turns her attention to the chain that's been relentlessly grating the skin of her wrist away for days. A sense of panic roils in her stomach and pushes into the back of her throat, eliciting a small whine. He's coming for her. She can feel it.

**MEANWHILE **

When the SWAT team crashed into the house, Doctor Maura Isles found herself, for the very first time in her life, wishing she had the power to wield a weapon. It didn't even necessarily have to be a gun; she would quite happily have torn that son of a bitch Jefferson limb from limb with her bare hands. Never had she thought herself the kind of person who would ever be willing to resort to that sort of utterly barbaric violence in a situation. However, never before in her life had she loved someone as much as she loved Jane Rizzoli. With the reassuring, heavy weight of a gun in her hand perhaps she would regain some power, some way of offering protection to the woman they so desperately sought. Whilst Frost, Korsak, Frankie and the members of the SWAT team stormed the cabin Doctor Isles remained outside, pacing back and forth at a safe distance. Of course she was not permitted to partake in the raid, although a rather disturbingly large part of her ached to be one of the men and women breaking down the wooden barriers and searching the residence for Jane. It just did not stop the almost feral desire to snatch a gun from one of the Officers and tear the whole fucking house apart. God, how she wanted to be the one to press a gun right into his temple and watched as he became the one to tremble in fear and beg for his life. Such thoughts did nothing to alleviate the near deafening roar in her ears, nor dispel her ragged little pants for much needed oxygen, but try as she might she just could not rid herself of them. Instead of storming the home of one Harold Jefferson, Doctor Isles restrains herself, she watches, she listens and she concluded that they have found neither Jefferson, nor Jane. When Detective Barry Frost came barrelling down the front steps and down the driveway to be met by the wide eyed Doctor, he wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand and said,

"They're not there Doc, but..." Words failed him. He coughed once, and then twice to clear his throat. "She was... She was there. He made himself a sort of... Bunker, underneath..." Frost glanced over his shoulder and shuddered. "Underneath the cabin. With... Cages." He wiped his nose and drew himself up to his full height.

"We think she escaped and he's... Gone after her. We're getting together a search team right now. Within half an hour we'll have a team of sniffer dogs and officers scouring the area..." Just the fact that the usually composed and efficient Barry Frost was shaking and almost incoherent was enough to grant the Doctor inkling as to what sort of conditions they had found within that house. Maura Isles swayed on the spot, and stared off at the vast expanse of trees beyond her colleague and friend.

"I'm coming with you." The words are so quiet, so sure and so definite that Frost has to lean forwards and ask the Doctor to repeat herself, something that in the past was never necessary. Doctor Maura Isles turned her head, a lock of honey blonde hair falling into one defiant and blood shot eye,

"I said I'm coming with you." This time, there is no mistaking the words or the intention behind them. "Doc I can't let you..." What happened next almost floored the Detective. Doctor Isles took a step into her friend's personal space, leaned in and snarled, "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do Frost!" The man in question instinctively took a step backwards, his breath stalling. The woman before him was unrecognisable. The fire in eyes that used to be so kind and warm both terrified and energised him.

"She will most likely be in need of medical treatment when we find her. And not just that, Detective, she's going to need me. Me! I'm coming with you. We're wasting precious time standing here arguing. Feel free to arrest me for obstruction, but only after she's safe. I'm coming Detective, so don't try and stop me." And with that, Doctor Isles spun on one spiked heel and marched towards the unmarked car that contained their equipment and supplies. She was going to get out of this skirt and blouse and drag on any piece of clothing that would be deemed fit for a search and rescue in the woods, pull on a pair of hideous boots and then she was going to help find her best friend, the woman she loved, even if it killed her_. I'm coming for you Jane. I know it's probably dark and cold wherever you are, but I promise you I'm coming and I'm bringing the light with me. Don't you dare give up now. Hold on, just hold on Jane...'_


	9. Run Rizzoli, Run

(Thanks for being so patient with this story, it's harder than I first thought getting these chapters out. Once again, any thoughts, suggestions, things you don't like or want to see happen, I'm open to hearing them. And reviews are always welcome.)

When we find ourselves immersed in nature in its purest, most basic form, it soon becomes clear that we are not at the top of the food chain. We, as a collective species, tend to spend excessive amounts of time congratulating ourselves on our intelligence, ability to adapt to situations, an inherent drive for progression and improvement. Our sense of superiority is nothing more than a shared delusion. We are at the mercy of nature, and unless you acknowledge the fact that all control and power has been relinquished to your surroundings, then you will perish. To survive, we must learn to become one with the wilds. We must blend into the forest, instead of fighting it tooth and nail; we must accept we are the intruders. He knew all of this; he knew it all and accepted it. However, it was evident that his adversary, Detective Jane Rizzoli, also understood that nature does not serve as one's enemy, or one's friend, with conscious thought. It comes down to how we interact with our surroundings. If you respect nature, she respects you. But if you are afraid, then she will know. She always knows.

He'll catch up to her soon. She knows that she can't possibly outrun him in this state. Any other time and boy, would he have met his match. But she was unarmed, injured, and running for her life. Her pathetic little life. She wanted it now more than ever. She wanted to wake up and snarl at her alarm clock, feed Jo and take her a run, head to work and buy coffee for herself and Maura on the way, deal with the latest onslaught of old and new cases, have banter with Frost and Korsak, whine at her Ma for being well... Her Ma, do her gumshoe thing, consult, bicker and just talk to Maura and head home at the end of the day to spend the evening with her best friend. She wanted all of it. And she'd be damned if she let it slip through her fingers without a fight. When he eventually caught up to her, she was going to make sure he would bear the scars for a long time. But for now, she was going to run. Run like hell. And hope against all hope that she makes it to a town or a road or... Someone. Anyone. A lifeline. Help. Salvation. She can hear him approaching, great lumbering footsteps and hoarse shouts of **"COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE! COME ON JANIE! I PROMISE I WON'T HURT YOU!"**

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Death, in the end, is the one certainty everyone faces in life. We spend our numbered days running from this inevitability, sometimes we barely notice the years flashing by. A glorious sunset, bursting with colours, the epitome of vitality and life, can give us a false sense of hope. Hope that in the vastness of the world, in the endless universe and time and space, perhaps we will be remembered. Perhaps at least one person will look back upon our existence with fondness, caressing our shared memories and shedding a tear at the fact the face they came to know will never look their way again. With each step we take on the path of life, we edge closer to death. It guides and distracts us, it is our enemy and yet our blessed relief. Death, ladies and gentlemen, scares us all. Death will meet us, open its arms, and swallow us whole. It will erase the footprints we may leave behind. And one day, we will be forgotten. It will be as if we never existed. Death cannot be avoided, but at this present moment Doctor Maura Isles was entirely convinced that if the terribly contrived cloaked figure generally regarded as representing death were to appear in front of her, she would have the force of will to disrobe death itself. _'Let him come. Let him try and take her from me.'_ Jefferson might have Death on his side for now, but the moment she and Detective Frost located the bastard, Death would have no choice but to become their ally. If it becomes a question of only Jane or Jefferson can leave these woods alive, that both cannot survive this hunt, then she was going to make sure he would be the one to leave in a body bag.

'_Right left right left right left, remember to breathe, in and out in and out, in through the nose and out through the mouth, think of those stupid yoga breathing techniques Maura taught you, in and out, keep breathing, keep running, run Rizzoli, RUN!'_ Mentally screaming at herself seemed to be helping her keep moving, at least for now. The ground was nothing more than a blur of mossy greens and browns beneath the Detective's feet as she alternated between trying to run, limping, jogging and crawling whenever she lost her footing. And that was happening more and more often as time passed. The soles of her feet were already blistered from the matches he mercilessly held against the sensitive skin, and now it was shredded and torn and bleeding. She had a new-found level of respect for the victims found in places such as this; their own feet looking like someone had taken a cheese grater to them. The sheer amount of strength it takes just to keep going with the icy breath of death prickling the back of your neck, your lungs on fire from exertion and overcompensating for the wounds, your blood pumping so hard inside your head you fear it may just explode… Well let's just say it took a lot. A lot of strength. The reserves of which were running low for Jane Rizzoli. She knew that soon she would have to stop. And when she did, death was pretty much guaranteed. One thought spurred her forwards, one name forced her to ignore the pain, and that name was Maura Isles. There was no way in hell the next time Maura touched her it would be to perform an autopsy. Just no fucking way. '_But his footsteps were so close… And she was so tired, so very tired… Maybe if she just rested for a little while, that pile of leaves looked awfully comfortable… Just a break to catch her breath… Only for a minute or two, and then she would run again…'_

But no. There would be none of that. Jane Rizzoli wasn't about to lie down and accept death, even welcome it with naked gratitude. Teeth ground together, bones and joints squealed in indignation, every nerve ending in her body screamed at her to start running again, to escape the danger that was so close now, oh so very close to her. Detective Jane Rizzoli squared her shoulders, wiped her nose with the back of one trembling hand, the one with the thumb that now felt stiff and useless after its rough treatment, and stood there, silent and patient, shrouded in the late afternoon's hazy sunlight piercing the leaves above her. If this was the end then she was going to stand on her own two feet and face it, head on, because Jane Rizzoli didn't back down from a fight, even when she was battered and bruised and almost delirious with pain and exhaustion. Legs apart, jaw set, shoulders squared, dark eyes glittering with fury. She might not be able to run even one inch further, her legs might be about to buckle underneath her, she might be about as strong and imposing as a cheerio right now, but she was going to fight until her last breath. The Detective sucked a shallow breath into her protesting lungs, wincing as bruised ribs flared indignantly. Insistent footsteps closed in and the sound of heavy panting reached her keen ears. _'Well Rizzoli,'_ she thought grimly, _'This is it.'_


	10. Cornered

Fair warning, a little bit of suspension of belief is necessary again, but we all love to ignore the rules of reality anyway. Reviews are like rainbows and sunshine and clouds made entirely out of marshmallow fluff, so feel free to write one, even if it's to tell me that you hate something and want me to move this along a little faster… I'm just one for tangents and waffling, I can't seem to help myself.

Jane bent at the waist and selected the largest, most threatening looking branch she could source from the limited selection at her feet, and stared resolutely at the section of closely clustered trees she was sure that rat bastard would appear from any second now. The pathetic weapon would be no match for a gun or a knife, or even his brute strength, but it made her feel a tiny bit less vulnerable. He was close now, only a few steps away at most, and all Jane could think of was how absurd she must look right now, like some kind of Amazonian woman, standing there brandishing a goddamn stick like it was a sword in battle. She didn't stand a chance. Jane tensed as the final barrier between herself and her tormentor was pushed aside and a figured stumbled into her line of sight. She was in the process of raising her make shift weapon high into the air when she realised that the person who had just tripped over a thick, gnarled root hidden beneath a pile of leaves and landed heavily on the soft earth was not the man who had held her captive for days, tortured her to the brink of sanity, kept her chained inside a cage like a fucking animal… This person was much too small, much too female and happened to be wearing a Boston Police Department windbreaker that was at least two sizes too big, had blonde hair that was a mussed and tangled mess, and was most definitely uncharacteristically swearing under her breath.

"I swear she was right behind me! I stopped to talk to Officer Wilson and then when I turned back she was gone! What if he got to her Sergeant?! What if he just crept up behind her and…?" Frankie Rizzoli reached out with one large hand and clasped Frost's arm.

"Cut it out Barry." He said gruffly, eyes flashing dangerously. Frost had only ever seen the younger Rizzoli really angry less than half a dozen times, and it usually only happened when his sister was in danger. That time with Bianchi… Shit the kid was mad then; Frost had to practically surgically remove Frankie's hands from that creepy son of a bitch's throat when they finally found them. But that was nothing compared to this calm, detached fury.

"She probably just got separated from the group Frost, we've radioed through, and everyone knows to keep an eye out for her." Korsak said reassuringly, despite the fact all he could think about was that both their girls were now somewhere in this godforsaken forest. Frost lashed out at a nearby tree in frustration, cursing harshly. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let them both slip through his fingers?

"Get it together Frost! We need to stay calm, we need to keep focussed! Let's just hope Maura found her way back to the cabin. Let's keep looking for Janie. C'mon, or we'll fall behind the dogs." Korsak grabbed Frost by the scruff of the neck like a little kid and urging him forwards.

Jane was prepared to stake her life on the fact her heart most definitely stopped beating for a moment. Just for a couple of seconds, everything faded, everything disappeared, and all she could see was the woman in front of her. The branch fell from her now limp grasp and her arms swung loosely at her sides, rendered useless by shock. "Maura…" She breathed, her voice a mere whisper masked by the natural sounds of the woods surrounding them. The blonde scrambled to her feet, facing the opposite direction from which Jane stood, struck dumb by the sight before her, simply staring at the achingly familiar form of her friend. She would have wept if she had the strength. The Doctor cupped her elbow with one hand, leaning slightly to her right, favoring that leg. It happened to be the leg Jane herself had to operate on the last time they found themselves trapped in the woods. That day, that event, it brought them back from all the arguments and sniping and bickering after the whole 'Oh shit I shot your sperm-donor-mob-boss-Dad' fiasco. It forced them into friendship again. She got her best friend back that day, and now here she was. For a moment, Jane considered the fact she might be hallucinating, that the heaven sent gift from the gods before her was a figment of her deranged mind, unhinged after days and nights spent in the darkness, being tortured and beaten and left to rot. But… There was that expensive perfume Maura always wears lingering in the air, the slightly sweet, yet musky scent that followed the Doctor around everywhere she went, that scent that haunted the Detective's dreams and waking hours, the scent that caused her to slip into an almost catatonic state whenever Maura leaned over her shoulder to draw her attention to something. She wasn't imagining that, surely she wasn't imagining it? Jane was still standing frozen to that same spot when the Doctor eventually turned around and took a step forward, her eyes downcast. Something appeared to startle her. Something gave her pause. Maura jumped, her head snapping up. Hazel eyes bulged inside their sockets, her pretty mouth hung agape, giving her a look that might be deemed comical in another situation, another time. Detective Jane Rizzoli cocked a tentative half grin, "Tell me I'm not fucking dreaming," She rasped, pressing her hand to her chest as though checking her heart was still pumping, that she was still breathing. And then she stumbled backwards as Maura Isles flung herself into the strong, familiar arms of her best friend, sobbing and crying, kissing and caressing every accessible inch of skin on offer. Rizzoli eased her stiff arms around her friend and buried her face into the soft, creamy neck of Doctor Maura Isles, who was so busy repeating her name over and over that she did not even notice the gentle kiss the Detective placed there before her knees buckled and she broke down in tears, murmuring the name of the woman she loved. Maura was the one to catch her, just like she had done so many times before. The Doctor slipped her toned arms around the now terrifyingly thin frame of her best friend and helped her regain her footing, whispering reassurances into a thankful, greedy ear.

Both women instinctively tried to shove the other behind them when a voice said, "Oh how sweet," in what could only be regarded as a purr; the silkiness of that voice brought the acrid taste of bile to the Detective's throat. She had listened to it so many times, heard it say such vile, disgusting things that she was sure, if she made it out of here alive, it would forever haunt her nightmares. But it was Maura who ended up between the former Doctor and the brave Detective, her arm protectively strewn across Jane's midriff, her small body pressed tightly against the lithe frame behind her. A snarl formed on her face, one that came unbidden.

"Don't you take one step closer!" Maura growled, holding Jane impossibly tighter with her arm, eliciting nothing but a light chuckle from Harold Jefferson, who was standing before them in dark jeans and a thin jumper, a sheen of sweat on his face, cheeks slightly pink from exertion.

"Oh Doctor Isles," he said sweetly, "I have clearly misjudged you. So very brave…" Jefferson slowly used the tip of one finger to sweep gently along the side of the gun in his hand. The one that trembled. The one that gave him away. The one that now had the power to end this game right here and now. Jane subconsciously moved her left hand, which was situated on Maura's hip, to draw Maura closer, and her fingers brushed against something hard, something solid, in the deep pocket of Maura's oversized, clearly borrowed windbreaker. She inhaled sharply and felt Maura's fingernails dig into her side as though assuring her that yes that is what you think it is Detective, and no I'm not just happy to see you. _'Maura Isles, you truly are the dumbest genius I know.'_


	11. On The Edge

Sorry for the delay! Reviews appreciated, kinda slightly unsure of where I want to take this now so any ideas are welcome... Enjoy!

Now that she was face to face with her foe, this phantom that had eluded her sharp mind for days, the man who snatched away the most precious thing in her life, Doctor Maura Isles supposed she should feel something… _More._ Something more than just disgust. Of course there was fear; she would regard herself as a fool if she did not feel fear when staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. But the fear Maura felt wasn't for herself; it was for Jane. Only for Jane. Always for Jane. The contempt and hatred roiling in her veins was a potent, potentially dangerous mixture, for she was all too aware of the fact the gun in her pocket was virtually inaccessible, at least by her hand. Jane could, in theory, extract the weapon and shoot Jefferson before he had the chance to react. That was theory. This was reality. And in reality, Jane's responses, both visual and physical, would be greatly impaired by the state of her body and her mind. In fact, the Doctor was close enough to hear the ragged nature of the Detective's every breath, the elevated heart rate, the slippery blood seeping between their bodies, the weight of her lithe frame pressing against her own back as her friend fought to retain a steady foothold on the uneven ground beneath her bare feet. Perhaps, for once in the good Doctor's life, she would have to rely on something that could not be hypothesized, tested or proven. Maura Isles would have to hope.

"I remember you from the conference." Maura blurted out, causing Jane to tense against her, preparing for the moment Jefferson lost whatever remaining control he had and used the weapon he was clutching so casually, pointing it at them almost lazily. Like he genuinely couldn't give less of a fuck that there was only a small chance that he would walk out of the trees on his own two feet. He certainly wouldn't be able to do that if Frost, Frankie or Korsak got to him first. Jefferson's upper lip pulled back from his slightly yellowing teeth in what was presumably meant to pass as a smile. Detective Rizzoli warned herself not to vomit at the sight of it.

"Very good Doctor, I was wondering when you would bring that up." He said smoothly, never taking his eyes away from the two women marooned helplessly in front of him. Whilst Maura's mind raced valiantly in an effort to uphold the flow of conversation and gain them precious seconds, she could feel Jane's larger, stronger hand inching slowly towards its goal. Maura thought for a moment Jane had spoken, but then she realised that she had simply picked up on the thought that was most likely in the forefront of the Detective's brain; _Keep him talking._

"Why Jane? Why not me?" That was a question Doctor Isles truly craved an answer for. Although she was stalling for time, granting Jane, at the very least an opportunity, to get her hand to the gun, she desperately wanted to know. In fact, she needed to know. Did this bastard choose Jane because of her? She thought she might already have an answer, but still… Hearing the words from his own twisted mouth would provide her with knowledge of his motives. And knowledge was something Maura could use.

"Oh Maura…" Jefferson sighed quietly, wondering to himself how such a bright woman could be so horrendously _stupid_ and _dull._ "You are decidedly…" He licked his lips and glanced at Jane, "Not my type." He finished with what resembled a conspirational wink. The Detective, though concentrating almost exclusively on the excruciatingly slow movements of her left hand, caught the marked change in Jefferson's tone. Never before had he sounded so superior. Maura however, mentally congratulated herself. The former Doctor had addressed her using her forename, a widely recognized method of instating one's own sense of power and superiority, whilst diminishing that of the other person. _Okay Maura, focus, he is reacting according to your suspicions. Now, just draw him out a little further and hope to god Jane gets to that gun…_

Maura straightened her spine and cocked her head to one side, careful to maintain eye contact with her opponent. She didn't even want to consider the potential consequences if he happened to look down and notice the peculiar bulge in her jacket and Jane's hand moving towards it. Her next words were critical. If she had been correct in her assumption of his motive, then she was about to, as Jane would say, 'open one helluva can of worms.'

"No?" The good Doctor enquired innocently enough, blinking in mock confusion. "Perhaps I am not, 'your type,' _Harold_," His name escaped her in a snap, contorting her mouth back into a snarl, "But I think I know exactly why you chose Jane." She paused, considering her next move carefully. "To punish me, because you knew inflicting harm on her would hurt me. And I also know _why_, whilst you were acting so contrite, _Doctor_," Maura issued his former title with lashings of scorn heaped upon it, "It became clear that you hate me, and people like me. People who are perfectly content to use their medical skills and knowledge to help the dead, the deceased, those with no breath in their bodies! You couldn't stand the thought of a life without performing surgery on live human beings, the very idea that your talents could be wasted upon the dead was just sickening to you, wasn't it! And the worst part was, it was your own doing! You inflicted a life long punishment upon yourself because you decided to kill your wife!" Maura's voice was becoming a shriek, yet she did not seem to notice. All her attention was focused on the pathetic excuse of a man and a Doctor before her. She relished the plethora of emotions raging across his haggard face; pure hatred, slight fear, confusion and best of all… Awareness. The dawning realization that he had been repressing. But Maura wasn't done, not by a long shot. Her best friend willed her not to go too far, for there were no second chances. If Maura pushed him over the edge, then she wouldn't even get the chance to shoot the son of a bitch, 'cause she would be too busy catching Maura's dead body in her arms.

"And at that conference, you looked at me, and you were_ jealous. _You knew that even in a professional field governed by men and women who consult with dead bodies, who never run the risk of inflicting harm on their patients, you would never reach our standard nor our level of prestige." Maura leaned forward, close enough to pick out the foul stench of Jefferson's body odour hanging thick in the air between them, far enough to allow Jane to move the last inch or so undetected.

"You're not even fit to speak for the dead." She spat out, eyes glazing over with unadulterated loathing.

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Jefferson howled, spittle flying, raising the gun, his hand trembling uncontrollably. Maura let out a peal of brash laughter with only one intent in mind.

"OR WHAT HAROLD?!" Any lingering fear dissipated as Maura's gaze locked onto his eyes and then languidly moved towards his shaking hand. He followed her gaze, and a solitary tear made its way down his cheek.

"Fuck you." Jefferson murmured. And then he pulled the trigger. The sound of gunshots ripped the silence around them apart, sending birds flying, leaves rustling madly and then... All that could be heard was screaming.


	12. Eyes Are Windows To The Soul

For a fleeting moment, Doctor Maura Isles thought she was back on that stretch of road between two stationary cars, faintly listening to the screeching of tyres as the vehicle that rammed into her Mother took off into the night. Weightless and winded, lying helplessly on the unforgiving concrete, mind racing, trying to piece together what had happened. But... She wasn't lying on concrete. Beneath her lay a bed of soft leaves. Above, what seemed like a thousand trees loomed over her. She snapped back into reality with one thought blazing brightly, as clear as day in her mind's eye; _**Jane. **_Maura flipped onto her stomach with some effort, fighting the sensation of her lungs closing inside her chest, pressing down on her windpipe. _Jane, Jane Jane Jane... Where the __**hell**__ is she...? _

"Oh god..." Maura choked out, her bleary eyed gaze finally coming to rest upon the familiar figure lying close by. And the still, unmoving body on her left. Reacting wholly on instinct, Maura kicked out with one foot and sent the gun close to Jefferson's bloody hand sailing into the thick undergrowth behind him. Her sharp mind immediately noted the gaping wound in the middle of his chest, seeping copious amounts of blood into his clothes... And suddenly it made sense. The forceful hand on her back, slamming into the ground, the sound and smell of gunshots filling her senses...

"Oh god! Jane..." She sounded slurred and hysterical even to her own ears. Maura hurled herself over to the dark haired woman, sobbing, trying to speak but only producing incoherent, disconnected spasms that barely passed as sentences. "Jane..." Her eyes were open, searching for something or someone, rolling back and from side to side. That is, until Maura's face appeared above them. Then they focussed only on her, never wavering, not even for a second. "It's okay baby, it's okay... Just a shoulder wound, a through and through... It's okay..." Babbling useless reassurances even as Jane gasped and choked as she drew in a pained lungful of much needed oxygen, Doctor Isles tore off her jacket and used it to apply pressure to the wound that was producing too much blood, so much blood... Just like the day she shot herself. Like the foolish, brave, idiotic soul that she was... "Mau..." Jane said thickly, her eyes wide, pleading. She couldn't stand to see her Doctor crying and sobbing, couldn't fucking _stand_ that he had done this to her... Maura hacked out another sob, feeling the warmth of Jane's blood soaking through the thin fabric and onto her hands, which were pressed so tightly against the wound the muscles were beginning to seize. "Shh..." Maura whispered, using two fingers to check the Detective's pulse. Weak, thready... _But there, still there, still there, _she reassured herself silently. "Mau... Ra!" Jane rasped, trying and failing to get her attention. With the last of her fading strength, Jane reached up and grasped Maura's hand, clinging to it like a drowning man would a buoy in the middle of the ocean. Maura stared at the hand clutching hers in desperation. She stared at the welts and contusions and blood glistening on the slightly tanned skin. Maura wanted to say something, she really did, but she just stared instead. Jane pushed the darkness threatening the edges of her vision back with a firm air of necessity. If she didn't say this now, she wasn't sure she would ever get the chance. Green eyes found the chocolate pair staring right back with enough intensity to render the Doctor absolutely speechless for once in her life, with no statistics to spew, no theories to air, no wealth of knowledge to fall back on. It was just her and Jane. "Mau... Ra..." Jane struggled to galvanise her vocal chords into action. There was just so much she wanted to say, her tongue was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to scream and shout and promise, but her lips wouldn't move, the words wouldn't come. "Jane..." Maura breathed, she was close enough for the Detective to see the bags under eyes, the pallor of her skin and the delicate freckles on perfect cheeks. She could smell the faint scent of strawberries from her shampoo. Their breaths mingled and a tear dripped onto Jane's chin, prompting her to squeeze her eyelids closed in a futile effort to prevent her own tears from falling. The pain was too much, she couldn't do this... Strong fingers gripped her jaw and Jane's eyes opened at the sensation, her very being seemed to be floating eternally in the tiny space between her own body and Maura's. "Jane..."

"JANE!"

"DOCTOR ISLES!"

"JANIE!"

"MAURA!"

"WE GOT 'EM! WE GOT 'EM! I NEED A MED TEAM DOWN HERE NOW!"

Voices shattered the relative peace that had fallen over the site of the carnage. Familiar voices alongside some the two women didn't recognise accompanied by the sound of barking dogs. "OVER HERE! WE'RE HERE!" Maura Isles shouted in a voice that was hoarse and tinged with desperation. Detective Barry Frost was the first man to come barrelling out of the trees and into the small clearing, his face shining with sweat, eyes widening to expose the whiteness of those glassy orbs as he struggled to take in the magnitude of the scene before him. Maura glanced back down at Jane and found her eyes had slipped closed once more. Frost then made his decision. He leapt over Jefferson's unmoving body and skidded onto his knees beside the two members of his team. He bunched up his jacket and tenderly placed it underneath Jane's head, tears rolling down his cheeks. Dimly, Maura could hear Korsak barking into his radio, screaming for medical assistance. She vaguely recognised the absolute terror in his voice. Vince Korsak had never sounded so scared and as childlike in all the years she had known him. Maura incoherently began to babble out a categorised list of Jane's injuries and then another familiar body dropped to the ground beside her. Frankie Rizzoli put one large hand over hers, which were yet to part from the wound in her best friend's shoulder. The younger Rizzoli had tears in his eyes, but was stoically refusing to break down.

"I'm here sis. I'm here. We got you." He murmured, gently using his thumb to wipe away some of the blood and grime from his sibling's cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and hope blossomed on the young man's features, resulting in a thin smile.

"Jeez Janie, you sure know how to ruin a guy's manly composure." He whispered, voice cracking as the first of many tears slipped down. The eldest Rizzoli let out a noise that was presumably a laugh, but sounded more like a strained cough.

"Fuck... It hurts... Hurts..." Jane moaned, craning her neck to get a look at the bloody, ragged wound hidden beneath Maura's hands and her blood soaked jacket.

"Language Jane," Maura muttered distractedly, mostly out of habit, listening to the sound of yet more voices approaching. _The medical team, finally. _Jane's raspy voice was starting to fade and Maura could almost feel the life slipping out of her body and the med team were close but not close enough. "Maura... I..." Jane was really fighting now, and as much as Maura wanted to tell her to conserve her strength, just to stop being Rizzoli for A GODDAMN SECOND and lie still, she wanted to hear the words. She needed to hear what Jane's trying to say, even if they have an audience and even if she's beginning to slip away, she needs to hear it. But then the Detective's body grew limp. Then nothing. Those are the last words that pass Jane's lips before she slips into unconsciousness.

"DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME JANE RIZZOLI! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Maura screamed, her fingers tightening against Jane's shoulder in a futile effort to rouse the Detective. "WHERE ARE THE MEDICS? GODDAMMIT!" The curse word that fell from Maura's mouth was the thing that prompted Frost to ease his arm around the Doctor and place his hand atop hers. Korsak looked at their hands, and Frankie looked at the older man, his mentor. Then both men gently placed their hands over the set already resting on Jane Rizzoli. They stayed that way until the medics arrived, their shared warmth radiating into Jane's body. Only then would they allow themselves to be parted from her.

**A/N -** Okay, apologies for all of these wretched cliff hangers, it just kind of happens and I forget how frustrating it can be when your trying to read a story, so sorry! Also, a word of thanks for all the favourites, follows and reviews, it really helps with pushing past writer's block etc. Now, as you can probably tell I wanted to portray a more, shall we say 'badass' side to Doctor Isles in this story, so I hope I achieved that. And seeing as we never did get to see exactly what happened after the shooting in Season 1, please feel free to suggest things you want to happen, for instance, in the hospital. I'm open to any and all suggestions. Once again, thanks for sticking with this!


	13. Playing The Waiting Game

The bullet wound was a direct through and through as Maura determined, but the trauma was putting extra pressure on Jane Rizzoli's already injured body. She had lost a terrifying amount of blood, from the shoulder wound as well as the undetected internal bleeding Doctor Jenny Lewis informed them of after three hours of waiting with no news and no way of knowing how the Detective was coping in surgery. It physically sickened Maura to her very core to even consider the amount of force used to produce such horrific internal injuries; the bastard had ruptured her spleen. And even though the rational side of her mind told her over and over again that humans can live perfectly normal and healthy lives without their spleen, it did nothing to alleviate her concern for the impact the bleeding could potentially have. If they couldn't get to the source of the bleeding... No, she simply could not dwell upon that thought. On another note, it was blatantly obvious to Maura that more than one of Jane's wounds had succumbed to infection, and there was one big word emblazoned on the inside of her skull; _**septicaemia**_. If the infection were to spread to her bloodstream, it could be a matter of hours before her body shuts down. The wounds on the Detective's back were also a central focus of Maura's chaotic and panicked thoughts…

_What if one or more of those open wounds are infected? _

_What if he injected her body with a greater quantity of the narcotics than he had delivered to the others in an attempt to overcompensate for her injuries, thus masking the full extent of the damage? _

_What if the further trauma as a result of the surgery negatively impacts her body as opposed to tending the internal injuries?_

_What if Jane doesn't survive?_

_Oh god, what if she dies...?_

The waiting room was quiet. The suffocating silence broken only by the sound of Angela's hoarse sobbing, which she was unsuccessfully attempting to muffle in an oversized hankie provided by Vince Korsak. She was crying in that strange way that often happens in situations such as this. The kind where there is no overly exaggerated weeping and wailing, there is only a seemingly endless outpouring of grief laden tears. The kind that means a person simply cannot stop. Frost and Korsak were sitting in one corner of the room, quietly conferring now and then, but for the most part remaining tight lipped, brows furrowed in a startlingly similar manner. Frost had his head in his hands in one of the deep, comfortable chairs, an untouched cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Both of them were acutely aware of the fact they should be processing the scene back at Harrison's lair. Doing it all by the book. But neither was willing to leave. Pushing through the fear, tinged with naked relief, and the shock, they both felt the cloying, dirty, overwhelming sensation of guilt. This happened again. To their partner. Their Jane Rizzoli. And guilt is a curious thing. It does awful things to the human mind, of that, both Detective and Sergeant possessed a wealth of knowledge. Although neither voiced the notion, it was clear to them both that if Jane Rizzoli didn't make it through surgery, they weren't sure if they could return to their department, their occupation and their livelihood. In fact mentally, Sergeant Vince Korsak was forming a letter of resignation, should his worst fear be realised. And the youngest Rizzoli who was sitting close by the older men, looked like a little boy again. Tommy's eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep and crying, though he knew he wouldn't let Jane know that he'd been sobbing like a baby... If she was here, she'd wind him up with wise cracks about it for weeks. Frankie was putting on a brave face, pacing back and forth, badgering the Doctors, and drinking cup after cup of crappy coffee. This was their big sister for chrissakes. The girl they grew up with. The girl they had water fights with in the back yard, the girl who patched up their bloody knees after kicking their asses playing football, the girl who had always dreamt of making a difference... And the grown woman who turned into their greatest hero. And Doctor Isles... Well nobody had ever seen Doctor Maura Isles really lose control. But that's what was happening right before their very eyes. Her usually immaculate hair was wild and tangled, her face was ashen, void of make up and her clothes were rumpled and splattered with mud and blood. But her eyes were the most haunting of her visual appearance. They were wide and full and unblinking. She too, was restlessly trying to glean even a sliver of information from the uncommunicative Doctors, barking out instructions and information even though she knew it was useless. It was out of her hands. There was nothing she could do.

Hour after hour passed with no news. Then yet another hour passed, bringing it close to four in the morning. Angela had drifted off into a restless sleep, Korsak's jacket thrown over her. Frost was just sitting there, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. Tommy and Frankie were quietly talking. Frankie had been in touch with his buddies down at the station and they were all working flat out. They processed everything found at the crime scene vigilantly. Even Lieutenant Cavanaugh had remained at the scene until every last piece of evidence had been bagged, tagged and categorized. What he didn't want anyone to know quite yet, was the former Doctor Harold Jefferson, the son of a bitch who did this to Janie, was being treated at another location. Jane shot was clean, precise; it went directly through his chest. But the bastard wasn't dead. Not yet anyway. Korsak was staring into his half empty, cold cup of coffee; his eyes had a faraway, misty look. He had lost so many friends, so many family members, losing the woman who had become daughter to him would break his big old heart. Maura Isles had been silent since her last vocal tirade against the nurses sat at their station just outside the waiting room. The reception desk itself was being manned by one particularly grating woman with her hair in a stiff bun, bright red lipstick, yellow teeth, and an attitude that made the normally patient and understanding Doctor Isles want to drag her bodily over the desk and slap some information out of her. But, after realizing no one was about to produce a detailed file of exactly what injuries Jane had sustained and hopefully, that she was definitely going to recover, Doctor Isles called a truce on her war against her fellow Doctors, curled up in a chair almost as if she were trying to burrow her way through the material and disappear… And resigned herself to playing the waiting game.

Another hour passed, making it close to seven in the morning, before Doctor Lewis led the group down the hallway and up to the ICU, where Jane was being monitored closely. It all seemed so familiar, standing outside the private room, staring through that impenetrable pane of glass, knowing there was absolutely nothing they could do to help her. There was a mess of tubes and wires coming out of the Detective every which way, her nose for oxygen, her arms for transfusions and fluids, a breathing tube down her throat that seemed huge in comparison to her face. Those famously untamable raven curls fanned around her head on the pillow and lay flat and lifeless, thankfully now void of blood. But the worst of it all was the injuries that were visible. The bruises, cuts, abrasions and burns on her beautiful face and arms. The rest of her body was mercifully hidden by the bed sheets, but they all had some idea of the damage they hid, Maura more than anyone. Angela turned away, put her head on Korsak's shoulder, and sobbed. Frankie had the stoic look of a man who knows that if he was to start crying, he might never stop. Tommy had his hand on his Mom's shoulder; he looked much older and serious than he had ever been in his life. Frost had one hand firmly in the small of Maura's back, and he was just staring at the woman who had become more than a colleague; she was a friend, a confidant, someone to trust and admire. His hand was the only thing tangible enough to keep Doctor Isles from just… Floating away. Every breath she pulled into her burning lungs was more painful than the last. To stand here, again, to look at the broken, yet achingly beautiful woman lying so still and unmoving in her horizontal prison, it was more than she could bear. What happened wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. The stubborn, brave Detective Jane Rizzoli had been reduced to this sorrowful image of brutality in front of them. Maura Isles thought, as her knees buckled under her weight and strong hands grabbed her arms and darkness flooded her field of vision due to a vasovagal syncope episode, she heard Jane's distinctive voice say, with an audible eye roll, _'God Maura, don't you dare faint on me…'_

**A/N** – Two updates in a day? I am spoiling you all… Hope you like this chapter, it just kind of wrote itself so I hope it's okay. I tried to incorporate as best I could a suggestion that Jane's gun shot wound was not the only traumatic and life threatening injury sustained, so I hope I managed to insert that in a believable way. Also, as someone else kindly commented, there will be no magical recovery, I'm going to try and make it as realistic as possible. I promise I won't begin a chapter with the words THREE MONTHS LATER, scouts' honour. And yup, Rizzles is on the way, please be patient with me, as I said I want to make it as realistic as possible. That's all folks, thanks for the support!


	14. Trinity of Peace

**A/N** - I noticed I forgot to mention Frank Senior in the previous chapter. Let's all just pretend he was out grabbing everyone some coffee and sandwiches whilst that was going on. So, this chapter is a little differed, kind of like the eye of the storm I suppose. I thought the story needed a break from the trauma, just a reminder that eventually, there might just be a happy ending on the cards. Don't worry, we'll get right back to the action and recovery next Chapter, for now, enjoy! Reviews, suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcome as usual.

_Detective Jane Rizzoli flashed her best friend a wide grin, dimples deepening and dark eyes glowing in the dim light. "You're tryna tell me you've never done karaoke? C'mon Maura, everyone's done it once!" The Doctor tipped her head to one side, considering this rather bold statement, which prompted Jane into taking action. She clapped her hand over Maura's mouth, whose eyes widened in surprise and amusement. "That ain't your cue to start lecturing me." The Detective warned, cocking her eyebrow as she tried to fight the smile that threatened at the sight of the usually refined and elegant Doctor Maura Isles sitting back against her comfortable pillows, a bottle of beer in her hand, cheeks flushed from one or two too many cocktails at the Dirty Robber that evening. Maura, sensing that her friend thought she had succeeded in silencing the oncoming onslaught of statistics, gave the hand covering her mouth a light lick to which Jane let out a squeal of indignation, theatrically wiping her hands on her dark jeans and scowling at the very smug looking Doctor. "Ew, ya got your cooties all over my hand." The Detective said, hiding her smile by taking a gulp of beer, appreciating its slightly bitter, yet fresh taste as it slid down her throat. _

"_Jane don't be so absurd," Maura said with a prim shake of her head, "There's no such thing." Jane rolled her eyes and leaned forward, planting her bottle on the table with a soft thud. She rubbed her hands together as though warding off a non-existent chill. _

"_You let me down tonight Doc, we had to forfeit the game to Frost and Korsak all 'cause you wouldn't sing a little song! They're gonna hang this over me all week now." The Detective pouted, eliciting a snort from her friend. _

"_Jane, I'm sure losing a simple game of 'Truth or Dare' isn't going to negatively affect your career in any way." At the flash of amusement tinged with exasperation on Jane's face, Maura chuckled to herself. "Y'know, sometimes I wish you'd never learned how to back chat me Doctor Isles." The sound of her title dripping from the Detective's mouth in that honey smothered raspy voice gave the Doctor pause for a second as she imagined her friend whispering that name in an altogether more intimate setting. She pulled herself back to reality with a mental shake, warning herself not to dwell on such things when the incredibly receptive Jane Rizzoli was around to notice. _

"_Yes well __**Detective**__," Maura said, placing extra emphasis on her friend's own official title, "Not all of us have the voice of a fairy." Jane choked on her mouthful of beer and struggled not to inhale anymore of the liquid while Maura thumped her back just a little too enthusiastically._

"_Angel Maura, voice of an angel." The Detective husked out, her cheeks a bright red from lack of oxygen. Maura shrugged daintily, placing the rim of her own bottle against her bottom lip, _

"_Whatever," She replied airily, carefully watching Jane as her gaze followed the path of the bottle rolling against a plump bottom lip. _

There was a technique to fighting back to consciousness. It was similar to breaking the surface of water in a pool or the ocean. One feels as though it is too far away, impossible to reach, but really the mind is simply playing tricks. Awareness is within touching distance, you just have to throw yourself at it and your head will break the surface. But Maura Isles wasn't quite ready to leave the reassuring, comforting fogginess of sleep behind quite yet. Not when such pleasant memories and sensations were flooding her semi-conscious mind.

_It was the hottest day of the year so far. In fact, it was the hottest day recorded in Boston for over twenty years, according to Doctor Maura Isles, who never seemed to run out of statistics or snippets of information on every subject imaginable. Not that Detective Jane Rizzoli even had the energy to roll her eyes at her best friend. Hell no, not today, not right now when she felt like she was about to spontaneously combust right there in the middle of Maura's rather huge back yard on the pretty little patterned rug her friend had thrown down on the grass for them to lie on. Her Ma had retreated into the Guest House, complaining loudly that 'All this heat wasn't good for a woman her age' and that she was considering 'Taking a cold bath filled with ice cubes,' to which Maura warned her may actually adversely affect her over heating body by lowering her core temperature too quickly and fooling the body into thinking it had to work harder to warm her up. At this, the elder Rizzoli had raised her eyebrows and muttered something about 'Maybe I'll just have a popsicle then' which Maura had brightly assured her was a perfectly safe option. Now it was just the two of them lying in the shade, listening to the music playing softly from a stereo a couple of yards away from them. Maura was absently waving an embroidered fan in a constant motion near her face, humming gently now and again at the pleasantly cool rush of air over her skin. She was so engrossed in the novel propped up against her knees that she did not notice that her friend's gaze had been fixed on her for over a minute now, silently drinking in the most perfect image she had ever seen with greedy eyes. Even with the biggest, silliest looking straw hat placed haphazardly on top of her honey blonde curls, with sweaty tendrils of hair plastered to her forehead, with the most boring looking novel pressed against her thighs... She was just so beautiful. She was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. She was kind of like staring at the sun. It was a good kind of hurt. The ache wasn't painful; it made the Detective feel warm inside and out, hence the concept of staring at the sun seemed to suit her predicament seeing as staring for too long was dangerous. It wouldn't do her any favours to be caught staring at her friend in a highly inappropriate manner. What could she possibly say to defend that? 'Oh sorry Maura, just got a little mesmerised by your rack of God for a sec there, please excuse me.' No no, that just would not do._

Maura Isles, for her part, even when reliving that memory, failed to notice the Detective's undivided attention resting solely on her that summer's day. Second time around, she was just as oblivious to the unbridled love and lust in Jane's eyes whilst she gazed up at her through trembling dark lashes. And when Detective Barry Frost opened the door to the small room she had been bundled into to recover from the shock that had finally overwhelmed her when confronted with the sight of Jane in that bed, he couldn't help but smile upon seeing the Doctor looking so childlike and innocent, curled up in the foetal position, clutching her knees to her chest… And smiling. The Doc, although she was pretty much out of it, was smiling to herself. He decided to leave her for a little longer and allow her to soak up as much strength and comfort from her dreams whilst she still had the chance. She was damn well going to need it in the weeks to come.

"_MAURA! MAURA COME HERE!" Jane's excited, and exceedingly loud, shouts brought the Doctor back into the living area in what was almost a sprint. She skidded to a halt behind the taller woman, panting a little. _

"_Jane!" She scolded her friend for needlessly scaring her, trying to resist the temptation to slide her arms around the inviting expanse of Jane's toned abdomen, which was hidden beneath an oversized Christmas jumper her Mother had purchased. She had been warned to adorn the gift on the previous Saturday night when they all got together at Maura's house. Maura found it endearing that although Jane had whined endlessly about wearing the offending garment, she was now reluctant to remove it, claiming it was indeed, 'pretty darn comfortable.' Jane swung around, her face shining with enthusiasm. She took the Doctor's hand and pushed her until Maura was directly in front of her, staring out the window on her tip toes. _

"_It's snowing! It's gonna be a white Christmas after all." The Detective said happily. Maura knew when her friend next got a call to a crime scene she would curse the snow and the cold all to hell, but right now, she couldn't help but be swept away by the joy and wonder painted on Jane's face. Maura glanced behind her, grinning widely at her best friend, silently marvelling at how this woman could look so attractive dressed in a ridiculous Christmas jumper, worn out jeans, hair a tangled, untameable mess._

_Then, all of a sudden, mischief blossomed in the Detective's dark eyes. _

"_Maura Isles, I challenge you to a snowball fight and hereby declare that the winner is entitled to determining this evening's television viewing schedule." Jane said grandly, grinning from ear to ear. Maura's face clouded over and the Detective instinctively reached out a hand to squeeze her friend's arm, concern pulling the corners of her mouth downwards._

"_Hey, what's up?" Jane enquired softly. Maura glanced out the window and then back up at Jane._

"_I've never participated in a snowball fight Jane," The Doctor said very seriously. Jane's heart melted (Although Maura would chastise her for using such a scientifically incorrect description) at the sight of the worried expression etched on the blonde's face._

"_Well..." Jane drawled, "There's a first time for everything my dear." This brought both of their smiles back with a vengeance._

"_You're on Detective." _


	15. Always

'_Janie… When Janie wakes up, she isn't gonna want me there, or her father, or her brothers. Not right away anyway. The first face she needs to see is yours… The first name she'll say will be yours. Please Maura, just watch over her. Watch over my baby. We'll be right outside I promise, and we'll take it in turns to check on her, but trust me honey… You're the one she wants by her side.'_

Angela's softly spoken, but firm words circled around and around the Doctor's mind as she stared down at her hand, which was hanging loosely on the door handle. She couldn't yet believe how well Angela was coping with the situation. The older woman had been in such a state of emotional distress just hours ago and now she was the height of composure. Maura reflected on how efficient the Mother had been, forcing her two stubborn sons, an even more uncooperative ex husband, and two determined, self reliant police officers to eat and drink something _'to keep their strength up.'_ She was in awe of the sense of calm radiating from Mrs. Rizzoli, even as her very world surely must be crumbling at her feet. Jane's Doctor had also been visually impressed with Angela when Maura had gently enquired about the results of the inevitable rape kit, to which Doctor Lewis had responded with an emphatic 'No, no, thank god,' and even then Angela maintained her composure. Maura wished she had some of that sense of inner peace right now. Entering the private room Jane had been placed in for observation should be easy. She should be desperate to see her friend, watch her chest rising and falling, proving to herself she was still alive, that her strong heart continued to beat. The fact of the matter was… She was terrified.

'_Maura Dorothea Isles, get a hold of yourself. You cannot stand outside this room for the rest of eternity. What would Jane be doing right now, in this moment? She would be breaking down the door to get to you.'_ But she wasn't Jane. She wasn't the confident, strong, sometimes overly protective Detective. Maura wanted to be brave, she wanted to thrust open the door, storm inside and demand that Jane wake up right now… But she couldn't bring herself to do that. Not yet anyway. Three yoga breathing exercises later brought Maura inside the room and the door closed behind her with a light snap, like a lock clicking into place.

The sight before her almost drove Maura to her knees. She instantly pressed one set of knuckles against her mouth to prevent the harsh sob breaking free of her throat and entering the room, silent apart from the dim beeping of the machines monitoring Jane's vital signs. And the silence in the room was overwhelmingly loud with the weight of everything that had gone unsaid for so long. Of all the things Maura wanted to say and do. For the fact that Jane was probably unaware of her presence did nothing to quell the Doctor's desire to hold her in her arms. The normally loud, brash, tough Detective Jane Rizzoli looked small, young and vulnerable lying swaddled in those brilliant white sheets. The visible areas of her body were also somewhat hidden by bandages and padding, covering most of the abrasions, contusions and wounds that Maura had already taken mental note of when she first found the Detective. In her mind, Maura went through the injuries she knew of; trying to summon the courage to walk the remaining steps and close the distance between herself and Jane;

_Contusion evident to the forehead, possible damage to frontal bone_

_Dislocated thumb, reset by Jane herself_

_Fractured nasal bone_

_Hairline fracture in the zygomatic bone region_

_Damage to the thoracic cage__, including three fractured ribs_

_Torn cartilage located in the knee, which could possibly lead to __osteochondritis, the inflammation of bone and cartilage_

_Internal bleeding caused by blunt force trauma, bleeding sourced and spleen removed, could potentially lead to infection or increased pressure on other organs_

_A definite ankle sprain, this__ musculoskeletal injury may be due to the ligaments of the ankle being partially or completely torn_

And the list could go on. She hadn't even taken into account the alarmingly high number of wounds on Jane's back that she knew would be hidden by her hospital gown. That bastard had a fascination with whipping and Maura, having an in depth knowledge and first hand experience of Jane's character, understood that the woman before her would not have stooped to begging. It was Jane Rizzoli lying there. That fact was undeniable, it was clear to Maura that this was indeed her best friend, the woman she loved, and yet her mind refused to connect the unmoving, silent figure on the bed to the woman who was always so full of life and laughter. Jane just didn't do this. Even when she was completely exhausted after a fourteen hour work day and needed to rest and recuperate, Maura would often catch the Detective restlessly tapping her feet on the floor, rubbing her scars agitatedly and wanting to talk, wanting to crack jokes and share a bottle of wine to escape her demanding job. This… Stillness was unsettling because Jane was such a constant, whirring force in Maura's life, and here she was. Maura didn't want to use the term _'broken'_ to describe Jane. Such a word would suggest Maura regarded the Detective as being weak, unfixable, someone to pity. And she didn't. Not even for one second.

Maura hesitantly put her hand over Jane's and attempted a smile through her teary eyes. "Hey sweetie." She managed to utter softly, her chest and throat constricting with barely restrained sobs. "I'm going to stay with you tonight, okay? I just… I wanted you to know that I'll be right here beside you. You're not alone Jane." Maura, after hesitating only for a brief moment, bent down and kissed her best friend's forehead, allowing her tender touch to linger longer than was strictly necessary, inhaling the familiar scent of everything that was so inherently Jane. The thin hospital gown had slipped down to expose Jane's chest upon which little suckers had been attached to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure. It also exposed bruising, her skin was a plethora of greens and blues and yellows with injuries inflicted of differing ages. Maura gently tugged the gaping gown closed, covering her chest. Jane didn't look quite as vulnerable then. And Maura didn't feel the need to slip to her knees and sob quite as much.

To Maura, it was as if she had stepped back in time. She and Jane had been friends for a little over a year when she put a bullet through her own body so that her fellow officers could rush into the building and get help for her little brother. That day, and the weeks that followed, simply put, had been hell. Although there was a desire burning through her veins all those years ago to do anything and everything she could to help Jane in any way she could, there was no real need for her to be there. Of course, whenever she was at the hospital, Jane was delighted to see her and get a break from the well meaning, but over bearing presence of her Mother. But in the eyes of the law and the hospital, Maura was nothing to Jane. She didn't feel like nothing. She felt, in her heart and in her mind, that she belonged by Jane's side, she was her business after all, but their relationship wasn't as close or as solid as it is now. They were best friends then, of that Maura had no doubt, but their relationship had bloomed and grown and deepened until their lives were so inexplicably intertwined sometimes she wasn't quite sure where she ended and Jane began.

And then suddenly Maura found herself on the floor of the tiny bathroom situated directly across from Jane's bed, the only barrier between them the door she had kicked shut in a panic. Frantically, the Doctor wrenched her hair back from her face just as the spasms in her abdomen reached their peak and she vomited violently. She heard the door open behind her and for one moment, she thought it was Jane, and her heart leapt. But the hand that started gently rubbing her back was far too large and cumbersome to belong to a woman. The hand was hesitant, almost as if the owner of said hand wasn't quite sure if this was the right thing to do in this situation. The muscles in Maura's back tensed with every heave and she fought valiantly against the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, but they fell anyway. She turned her head slightly and caught sight of Frankie Rizzoli easing himself into an awkward half kneeling position beside her as he used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. When she was done voiding the meager contents of her stomach, Frankie presented her with a bundle of tissues. Maura wiped her mouth and pressed the material to her chin, tears making tracks down her pale cheeks though she never made a sound.

"Ma sent me in to check on you both," He offered a moment later, still struggling for the right thing to say. Frankie handed the Doctor a bottle of water and some extra strong mints. She chugged down a few mouthfuls, wiping the back of her hand roughly against her mouth and then methodically crunched the mints. The younger man sat back against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, looking like he had aged ten years in the past few days.

"I can't do this." She whispered hoarsely, reaching up and flushing the toilet, lowering the lid and then leaning her forehead against it tiredly. Maura glanced up at her colleague and friend, whose own face was clouded with a mixture of emotions.

"I could never imagine anyone hurting her. I keep imagining how terrified she must have been. I keep…" Maura stopped, unable to go on. "I'll be lost without her." She admitted softly. Frankie sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and gazed silently at something way off in the distance before replying.

"I get that you're scared, hell, I am too. I've never been so scared in all my life." Maura jumped slightly at the sound of those familiar words. "Janie's a fighter Maura, you just gotta know she's gonna fight to come back to us… To you." Frankie reached out and squeezed the older woman's shoulder, his eyes soft with understanding. "The question is, are you ready for that? Are you ready to fight for her?"

Maura Isles gently placed the half empty bottle water down on the cabinet beside Jane's bed before taking the scarred, injured hand lying on the sheet between both of her own.

"I'll be here Jane. Always." She whispered, placing a kiss on the slightly gnarled skin in the middle of Jane's hand, smoothing the skin with her thumb.

**A/N** – Not entirely sure about this chapter, so let me know what you think please if it's not too much trouble, it'd be a great help. Thanks once again for sticking with this!


	16. Pockets of Secrets

"I'm not hungry; you can't force me to eat." Maura's voice was petulant, full of exhaustion and weariness, but Barry Frost wasn't about to take no for an answer. He raised one eyebrow and tapped her on the knee affectionately.

"We both know I could if I wanted to. Eat the damn sandwich, please." His voice, though stern, also sounded worn out and lack luster. She sighed and took the sandwich from the Detective's hand, rolling her eyes.

"Matters such as this are usually handled by a certain Mrs. Rizzoli, Barold." Maura said, extracting one sandwich from the double pack. Frost smiled, slow and tiredly.

"Yeah? Angela trained me well." Maura huffed out a laugh and began tilting the offering from side to side, trying to decide which area of the sandwich appeared the most edible and finding that to be a task of greater difficulty than one would assume. That was, until the machine hooked up to Detective Jane Rizzoli started beeping and whirring.

"The hell's happening?!" Frost cried out, as both colleagues watched in shock and horror as Jane's body started to buck and twist, her breaths coming in rattling drags. The breathing tube. She was waking up and that intrusive breathing tube was still wedged in her throat. The door burst open within seconds and two Doctors shouldered Maura and Frost out of the way and made straight for the bed.

"Oh god… Oh my god." Maura said, pressing a shaking hand to her mouth.

"Stand back! Stand back!" Doctor Jenny Lewis instructed them even as Jane started to retch, clawing at the tube with one bandaged hand as though the thing was alive and trying to draw the very breath from her lungs. They could hear her trying to cough and scream, but all she could do was gag.

"Take it out! Take the tube out!" Frost barked, feeling Maura grab onto his hand and squeeze it so tightly he feared she might draw blood.

"We can't just take it out! If there are complications she might need it again!" The younger Doctor snapped, glaring over her shoulder at the man who had dared to speak.

"COMPLICATIONS? IT'S FUCKING CHOKING HER!" Frost roared. Not usually being type to lose his composure, Maura should have been slightly taken aback at his tone. Instead, she found herself silently rooting for her friend.

"TAKE THE FUCKING THING OUT. OR I WILL!" Frost eventually shouted, and it was then they finally acted. One Doctor held Jane down by the shoulders and the other removed the tube. The great, rattling, hoarse breath Jane inhaled shook Maura to her very core.

And then Jane panicked. She didn't recognize the two people peering over her, her mind most likely associated the fear and confusion with being back inside that man's lair. Of being held captive by the bastard who hurt her so badly. Tears streaming down her face, Jane tried to pull away from the two Doctors and wrestle her body out of the bed.

"No! Stop! No! DON'T TOUCH ME!" The stark terror and desperation in her voice was blood curdling. Frost stood, mouth agape, listening vaguely to the quiet mewls of pain Maura was emitting beside him. And then the Doctor sprang forwards, elbowing her way to Jane's bedside.

"Jane! Jane, stop! Stop, it's okay honey. It's okay!" Maura had her hand on Jane's arm, trying to reassure her, trying to calm her.

"It's me Jane. And Frost. It's just us. We're here, you're safe. You're in the hospital. Those are the Doctors, they're helping you. It's okay Jane, you're safe now." Her voice was calm, soothing and cool. Jane's wild, roaming eyes washed over her friends, once, twice, and then finally settled on Maura's tear streaked face. Jane's injured legs, which were now hanging over the side of the bed, had started to bleed. The bandages around her mid section, covering the incision the Doctor had made to stop the internal bleeding, had come loose in the struggle and were hanging haphazardly, threatening to fall entirely away. Maura was holding her tightly by the shoulders, giving her some sense of being grounded, gazing into terrified eyes.

"It's me." Maura whispered once more, and finally Jane's face crumpled, her lips trembled and she started to sob. Her head fell against Maura's shoulder and she sobbed, great big gut wrenching sobs that tore out of her throat and into Maura's very being. Bandaged arms wrapped around Maura's back and pulled her closer, as though Jane was trying to make sure the woman she was holding was really and truly and physically real, and could only do so by feeling her heart beating in time with her own, the sensation of every breath expanding and contracting inside her chest, and the soothing whispers in her ear.

"You're safe now. You're safe Jane." Maura whispered, pressing her lips against a warm, tear stained cheek, holding onto Jane just as tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My Pop used to do that. He'd come home from work and I'd jump on him first seeing as I was the only one old enough to get to stay up late sometimes. And I'd whisper to him, anything in your pockets Pops? And he'd tell me that I would have to look and see. I'd always find something, whether it be a piece of candy or something like that. You looking through your pockets reminded me of that." Doctor Isles jumped, startled by the sound of Jane's gravelly voice breaking the silence. She had been sure the Detective was still asleep. She instantly leaned forwards, removing her hands from her pockets, capturing Jane's hand between both of hers and giving it a squeeze.

Maura offered a strained smile, "I was looking for a handkerchief." She explained softly, caressing the back of Jane's hand with her thumb. "And that's a very sweet story." Maura added after a second pondering Jane's choice of words, wondering exactly why she chose that particular childhood memory to divulge. The Detective dropped her head down onto the pillows beneath and sighed,

"Shit," she said wearily, "Can't believe I freaked out like that." Jane said with a shake of her head. Maura bit her lip against the desire to stand, lean down and press her lips to Jane's. She couldn't help but remember that moment in the woods, she had been so convinced Jane was going to close the distance between them and kiss her. Jane reached up with her free hand and rubbed her eyes, then her nose, wincing as she made contact with her contusions and fractures.

"Reactions such as yours are common among men and women who have suffered significant trauma. The body's natural 'fight or flight' mechanism is still in operation and that, coupled with the brain's conclusion that there is still danger in the immediate vicinity, can produce a visceral reaction like the one you exhibited…" Maura broke off, realizing Jane was staring at her, tears pooling in her eyes. The fingers sandwiched between her own suddenly tightened around hers and squeezed.

"Damn I missed that googlemouth of yours," Jane rasped, "Never thought I would see the day." She added, producing a smile that did nothing to hide her split, bloody lips and shaky teeth, only succeeded in accentuating the damage further. Her composure faltered and Maura couldn't help it, she used the pads of her fingers to brush away Jane's tears, whispering gentle reassurances as she worked.

"Don't Maura, don't…" Jane eased her friend's hand away from her face and held it, gazing down at their entwined fingers with something entirely unreadable in her eyes. Jane winced again and brought a finger up to her mouth, where she pushed against a couple of teeth.

"Gonna have to get some of these capped… Bastard." She hissed when she hit a particularly sensitive spot. Maura brought her hand up to Jane's face once more and cupped her cheek, careful to avoid any clearly injured areas.

"Jane…" She murmured, watching as her best friend's pupils dilated almost to the point where they were utterly black. Jane covered the hand on her cheek with her own bandaged one and gazed intently at Maura, like she was seeing her for the first time. And maybe, in some way, she was.

"Thank you…" Jane swallowed thickly; her throat was parched and sore, "For saving my life." A tear dripped onto Jane's chin, and then before either woman registered what was happening, Jane was leaning up off the bed and Maura was tilting her head downwards, and their eyes never left each other as the distance between faces closed…

"JANIE! LOOK WHAT THE BOYS ALL PITCHED IN AND BOUGHT YA!"

Tommy Rizzoli burst through the door, carrying the most ridiculously oversized box of chocolates, a huge card, a 'GET WELL SOON' gift basket, the biggest bunch of flowers known to mankind, topped off with a bear the size of a small human. Jane groaned from somewhere deep in her chest and covered her eyes with one arm, silently cursing her family for having the worst possible timing. Ever. In history.

**A/N** – Do not fear, dear loyal readers, this is most definitely not the beginning of sunshine and rainbows and happiness. Jane has a long way to go, so I hope y'all are up for some more angst, 'cause there's going to be a lot of it. Also I have no idea if the past two chapters have been medically correct, but I did my best! Thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites, it really does make my day.


	17. You Go, I'll Stay

"Why do they have to make painkillers the size of nuclear missiles?" Jane whined, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes whilst staring dejectedly at the bundle of relatively small pills in the middle of her palm. She was sure they were mocking her by jostling around, daring her to choose which bullet sized monstrosity to swallow first. Maura, who was busy tidying the ever-expanding mess gathering around Jane's bedside, on the floor and the cabinet near her head, shot her friend an amused, yet exasperated glance. Jane huffed out a sigh and placed the first of the tiny pills between her lips, giving Maura a pained look. "Ain't ya gonna give me the history of painkillers or something?" The Detective enquired, voice slightly distorted due to the pill clenched between her lips. She was genuinely taken aback at the lack of lecturing going on. Maura shrugged her shoulders and covered her mouth with her hand when a yawn began stretching her jaw. Jane accepted the glass of chilled water the Doctor passed over and swallowed a mouthful over the top of the pill, wincing at the bitter taste coupled with the throbbing pain in her nose that such a simple action brought forth. Once the second and third had disappeared down Jane's reluctant throat, there was a knock at the door. Immediately, both Doctor and Detective tensed. It was evident this was not a member of the Rizzoli family. Jane wasn't sure her family even knew how to knock, much less do so in such a polite manner. Jane's frantic eyes instinctively sought out Maura, who gave her a tight, somewhat reassuring smile and a squeeze of the arm.

Doctor Jenny Lewis elbowed the door open and entered with a coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. _'Late again for your rounds Jenny' _she scolded herself, _'The boss is gonna kick your ass girl. Not as if I can control the goddamn traffic for pete's sake.'_ Doctor Lewis ran a hand through the blonde hair she had barely stroked a brush through that morning and idly thought that she should really start planning ahead for her hectic mornings. She glanced at the two women, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on the hand resting on her patient's arm before she snapped back into her professional composure, doing her best to stare through the deep, purple bruising on the Detective's face and the terrible pallor of her skin. The woman was doing remarkably well for someone who had been through so much physical and psychological torture, but she wasn't convinced that would last very long. Patients under her care who had similar experiences seem to be doing well for a while, and then suddenly the weight of their suffering settles on their shoulders and they break down. Some of them never recover. She hoped the Detective would.

"Good afternoon Detective Rizzoli," The Doctor said with her usual airy brightness, bustling across the room and plucking the chart from the pouch at the bottom of the bed.

"Call me Jane. Jane's fine." Came the reply. The Doctor wondered privately if the Detective's voice had always been so hoarse and gravelly. Of if screaming had left her throat raw and sensitive. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

"Jane then," Lewis shot her patient a smile before returning her attention to the chart in hand, taking a thoughtful sip of coffee as she absorbed the words penned there by the nurses who were monitoring Jane Rizzoli.

"So Doc..." The woman drawled, glancing at her friend. "You think you can tell me when I might be getting out of here?" The naked hope that was so painfully audible in the Detective's voice made the Doctor feel slightly uncomfortable. She loved her job, she really did, but she was not so fond of being the bearer of bad news. She chose her words carefully, the last thing she wanted to do was upset the Detective. Doctor Lewis glanced up, resettling her glasses with a well practiced finger. Meeting Jane's imploring gaze was difficult, but she forced herself to stare directly into her patient's eyes. She deserved at least that.

"Jane, I'm afraid we're going to have to keep you here for a while so we can monitor your healing progress..." '_And maybe have you evaluated by our resident psychologist,' _The Doctor added mentally, electing not to share that particular piece of information. "Your body's suffered a significant amount of trauma, and until I'm fully satisfied you'll be able to cope with leaving our round the clock care and returning home... I'm afraid you have to stay here." The Detective's expression clouded and, if it didn't sound so silly even in the privacy of her own mind, Doctor Lewis might have said she saw a shadow fall over her face.

"I can take care of myself," Jane growled, struggling into a more or less upright position as if to prove that point. The two Doctors noticed the way she had to grind her teeth together and cover her abdomen with one hand to even make it that far. The amount of pain the Detective had to be in at that moment surely must be excruciating. She was clearly withstanding it on principle and strength of will only. Blinking away the sweat that had dripped into her dark eyes, Jane nodded at Doctor Isles, who, for the most part, looked completely drained, her hair lay lank and flat, eyes dull and weary. '_Interesting, interesting. I really should mind my own business, but just the way she's looking at her...' _Doctor Lewis thought of the last time she attempted to meddle in someone's love life and immediately returned to her steely professionalism. "C'mon Doc," Jane pleaded. Doctor Jenny Lewis snapped the folder in her hands closed and deposited it into its slot.

"I suggest you get some rest Detective Rizzoli. I'll be back in later." She said smoothly, uttering a swift goodbye before exiting the room, leaving a seething patient behind her.

Jane's hand connected with the wooden cabinet beside her, top lip twisted back into a snarl. The flat of her palm hit the surface hard enough to send bottles of energy juice and chocolates to the floor. "Who does she think she is?" She fumed, ignoring the fact Maura was staring at her with a mixture of shock and pain etched on her face. "I'll discharge my fucking self; she can't force me to stay here!" Jane's voice rose an octave or two as her rage and indignation peaked. The brunette folded her arms and stared moodily at the wall, taking shallow breaths. Maura bent at the waist and began collecting the items Jane had knocked over, silently counting to ten to prevent herself from snapping at her friend. After all, it wasn't her fault she was in this position.

"Jane, this is the best place for you right now. And it's not like you'll be alone, your family's here. And me." The Doctor eventually said cautiously, settling back down in the chair to one side of Jane's bed. It wasn't the most comfortable of seating, in fact it paled in comparison to the designer set chosen for her office that Jane had mercilessly poked fun at every day since they were delivered.

"Oh whoop-de-fucking-do. I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby tonight knowing that." Jane scoffed, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. Maura sighed softly and picked at the hem of her skirt, waiting for the apology that would surely come any second now... But Jane said nothing. That unsettled the Doctor more than her biting, harsh words ever could. In the past, Jane, after saying something hurtful, would always break down and apologize soon after, overwhelmed with guilt. The fact that Maura was sitting silently, reluctant to speak lest she spark another confrontation, didn't seem to bother the Detective, who was scrolling through her phone even though she had to continuously squeeze her eyelids closed, the bright light obviously aggravating them.

"Jane, your eyes are still sensitive from lack of exposure to light sources, you should probably..." Maura began, but before she could finish Jane took her phone, held it up between two fingers and thrust it in the air.

"Happy?" She snapped, leering at her friend before placing it down on the cabinet and returning to her intent study of the wall across the room like it had suddenly started depicting a baseball game in stunning high definition. Jane, although she was entirely unaware of it, blinked a few times, as though realizing what she had just said and where she was. The Detective turned her head fast enough to elicit a wave of dizziness, and she had to squeeze her eyes closed again to regain her composure. "Maura..." She said quietly, hanging her head as the other woman glanced up at her with trepidation in her eyes. "Jeez Maura... I'm sorry." Jane said, swallowing thickly over the ball of suppressed tears that had formed in her throat. The Doctor got to her feet and for one horrifying second, Jane thought she was going to hit her, and instantly cringed away. Maura gasped and hurriedly sat down next to her friend, using the softness of her fingers to draw Jane's head back until they were facing each other.

"Don't... Please don't look at me like you're afraid of me." Maura said, voice cracking. Now that there was only a little distance between them, Jane could see just how much weight Maura had lost and how exhausted she looked, with dark bags and bloodshot eyes.

"Maura..." Jane said suddenly, her voice a lot stronger than she was expecting it to be given the current situation. "I just want to say thank you for being so strong for my family... Whilst... He had me, and thank you for saving my life. You've been amazing..." Maura turned Jane's hand over in hers until the palm faced upwards, and then covered the scarred and scraped skin with her own, fighting tears. "But you should leave now." At the sound of those words leaving the Detective's lips, Maura felt her grip on Jane's hand slacken and then slip away entirely. At the sound of silence, Jane pressed on, "You've done more than you should have ever have had to, but you should go now. I can take it from here." There was a pause, "You go... Go home," Jane licked her lips, "And I'll stay." Perhaps ten, maybe fifteen seconds went by before Maura jerked herself off the bed, disgust and betrayal and hurt marring her pretty face.

"You think you can just pat me on the head and send me on my way after everything we've been through?!" Maura's voice was high pitched, sharply edged with disbelief and fury. "You think you can just give me that condescending, _'Oh Maura, what am I going to do with you'_ smile and tell me to leave?! Well you must not know me very well at all Jane because if you think I'm about to even put one toe out of that door you must have lost your goddamn mind!"

"But... Maura..." Jane spluttered, having not prepared herself for such an outburst, she was at a loss as to what to say now. Maura held up her trembling hand, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Don't you dare Jane Rizzoli." She uttered ominously, and the Detective fell silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maura, having been home to collect a few essential items for her stay at the hospital with Jane, was once again absorbed in her new copy of 'Othello' by William Shakespeare. Despite the fact reading the play did bring back some rather more than unpleasant memories of the evening she realised Jane was missing, she had been desperate to read it for a while now, and so was doing her utmost best to ignore the gentle twinges of unease prickling the back of her neck as she read on. She came to a particular line that struck a chord somewhere deep within her and forced a sigh of kinship with a fictional character from her throat. The play's villain exclaims,

"**O beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on."**

'_Indeed,' _Maura reflected darkly,_' jealousy is a dangerous emotion. One that I have indulged in far too frequently where Jane is concerned.'_ Never would she actively attempt to belittle or adversely affect someone's relationship, yet on the other hand never has she experienced a time when seeing Jane in an intimate relationship with another human being didn't incite some amount of anger and jealousy within her. Even before she was fully aware of her feelings for her friend there was at least some amount of bitter jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. '_Perhaps that's why I continued to surround myself with men I soon tired of; focusing my attention on someone else should have helped.' _Of course, nothing had helped. Not entirely.

Doctor Isles was so wrapped up in her thoughts she failed to notice Jane's intense gaze fixated on her until she happened to glance up whilst she stretched out her stiff shoulders. Their eyes locked, and something bearing a resemblance to an electrical current traversed the invisible chord between them that kept them tethered together no matter what life threw at them in its attempt to drive them apart.

"You should get some sleep Jane." Maura said quietly, delicately placing her book mark snugly against the spine and closing the play with an air of finality. She was definitely going to try and settle into slumber now in an attempt to achieve a full REM sleep cycle, even if Jane wasn't. Neither of them had slept well the previous couple of nights as Jane was restless due to having suffered a number of nightmares, was also in a substantial amount of pain, and had been feeling nauseous.

Jane used the tip of her finger to draw patterns on the crisp white linen beneath her, wondering exactly why this apology was so damned difficult to make. '_This is __**Maura **__for god's sake. Maura Isles; best friend, colleague, potential… Potential what? Lover? Girlfriend? Maybe in your dreams Rizzoli.'_

"Maura I just wanna say I'm sorry for being the world's biggest asshole earlier." She eventually said, sensing her apology was woefully inadequate, but at a loss as to how to improve it. Jane never had been good at the whole 'saying sorry' thing, just ask her Ma.

"Apology accepted Jane." Maura said almost immediately, reaching out to place her hand over Jane's, who was staring at her in disbelief.

"Just like that? Maura are you kidding me? I was such a bitch…" Maura traced her fingers over the back of Jane's hand thoughtfully.

"True," she conceded with a smile, "But I'm not going to stay mad at you Jane. Not now and probably not ever again." Both women knew Maura was referring to those dark months after Jane shot Paddy Doyle, something they swore they would never go through again.

"Thanks Maura," Jane whispered, her voice slightly slurred with exhaustion and the effects of the drugs her bloodstream was currently being pumped full of. With heavy eyes still gazing at Maura in the dim light, Jane slowly shuffled backwards on the bed and looked from the reasonably human-sized space left there to Maura, something resembling hope in her expression. Maura, having already changed into an oversized sweatshirt and pyjama bottoms due to the chill that always surrounded hospital rooms, cocked her head to one side in consideration of the invitation.

"I don't want to hurt you…" She said quietly, silently willing Jane to reassure her she would do no such thing, and experiencing a wave of relief when Jane pulled a face at her.

"Get in." Jane said, and then added, "Please," as an afterthought. The Doctor gingerly eased herself onto the soft, yielding mattress, careful to avoid making physical contact with Jane. Never being known for her patience, Jane reached out a moment later and drew Maura closer to her, pressing their bodies together. Instantly, Maura sighed and relaxed into Jane's clumsy embrace, reveling in the sensation of her friend's warm body against her own and the minty scent of Jane's breath washing over her face. Jane buried her face in Maura's shoulder and inhaled gently, trying not to lose it and cry all over the clearly exhausted woman beside her. Maura tentatively ran her hand through Jane's tangled curls and relaxed a little more when Jane sighed and snuggled into her sweatshirt.

"Did you know that the act of cuddling releases a hormone called oxytocin which reduces stress and prevents nausea and headaches?" Maura asked in a whisper, and smiled to herself when she felt the vibrations from Jane's chuckle.

"Really?" Jane muttered, with only a hint of sarcasm, "Maybe that's why this feels so good." She said, and as she drifted off to sleep she did not feel an ounce of panic at her choice of words, nor did she sense Maura's warm smile or her trickling tears.

**A/N: **As you can probably tell I have some free time right now so I'm rolling out these chapters like nobody's business. I really enjoyed writing this particular chapter for some reason. Hope you all like it too! Suggestions and requests are still welcome, feedback is great to get, and thanks again for reading.


	18. Trying

**A/N: **I realise I'm kind of making everything okay at the end of each chapter now, which is good in some ways and bad in others. It's not going to be like that every time, just to warn you! Hope you enjoy it. Also, I don't think you can respond to guest reviews directly, so to the person who asked how they found Jane, and how she ended up in hospital, I suggest you flick back a few chapters, it's all there.

"I do not want to lie in this goddamn _fucking_ bed one _fucking _second longer!" Detective Jane Rizzoli bellowed, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the startled look on her Doctor's face.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli! You watch that mouth of yours!" Angela snapped, suitably horrified at her daughter's use of such deplorable curse words. Maura stifled a grin and turned her head away from the scene unfolding before her. She couldn't blame Jane for growing tired of being spoken to like a child and forced to remain in bed for the majority of the day. The Detective was bound to end up frustrated, and when she was frustrated, she lashed out. That was just the way it's always been.

"Ma!" Jane squawked, drawing out the syllable with her distinct drawl. "Stay outta this!" She snapped, to which Angela responded by shooting her daughter a venomous glance before turning an apologetic smile to the young Doctor, who had a pained expression on his face.

"I'm awfully sorry about my Janie's behaviour Doctor Martin; she's been through a lot these past couple of weeks..." Jane released a long, low, guttural moan and directed an accusatory finger at her Mother.

"One more word Ma and I swear I'll have you removed from this room!" Angela scowled, straightening her spine defiantly.

"Oh well excuse me for trying to help," She said snootily, and her ex husband raised his eyes heavenward.

"For god's sake Angela will you just let the girl speak?" He said exasperatedly, placing a calming hand on Angela's forearm. That simple action was not welcomed.

"Get your hands off me Frank! Don't know where they've been now do I?" Jane emitted something resembling a scream and looked desperately at Maura for assistance. She had been reluctant to interfere in such a heated exchange, but now sensed they had no choice if they were ever going to hear what the Doctor had to say.

"Angela... Mr Rizzoli, perhaps it's best if we just let Jane handle this..." Maura began with a gentle smile, using her own hand to steer Angela to the opposite side of the room from her ex husband and clear a path for the terrified looking Doctor who had now been standing there for a good ten minutes, too overwhelmed and threatened to speak. Now, he cleared his throat and straightened his already impeccably aligned tie, which was a shade of a rather hideous green that Maura found strangely off putting. Perhaps it was due to the fact it was reminiscent of Doctor Pike.

"Your wounds are healing well Miss Rizzoli. Our specific concern was of course the internal injury and the consequential operation performed to repair the damage, but everything seems to be coming along nicely." Angela positively beamed at her daughter, but the younger woman was entirely focused on the Doctor, concentration pulling her mouth into a thin line. "However," the young man gulped over his Adam's apple and sent a glance in Maura's direction, who offered him a smile of encouragement in the midst of the chaos she herself had grown so accustomed to. "However, Doctor Lewis and I agree that you should remain under our supervision for another few days, so we can..." His small voice was completely muffled under an avalanche of the exclamations from the three Rizzoli's gathered in the room. "IT'S THE SAFEST OPTION FOR YOU MISS RIZZOLI! WE HAVE TO ENSURE THERE'S NO DANGER OF INFECTION!" Doctor Martin shouted above the general ruckus and quickly exited the room, muttering under his breath something along the lines of _'Why the hell do I always get the lunatics...'_

Jane, having now been informed that she would not be getting out of said _'goddamn fucking bed'_ any time in the foreseeable future, instantly soured and became even more unbearable. She ordered her parents from the room, threatening them both with bodily harm if they elected to disobey her and then sat there seething; teeth clenched together, white faced and furious looking. Maura was still standing near the door, looking quite bewildered by the whole exchange.

"I don't really give a fuck about the pain Maura, I just wanna go home." The Detective eventually said, tone clipped, disguising her true emotions.

"It's just a few more days Jane, the Doctors clearly think it's best…" Jane released a bark of bitter laughter, causing Maura to flinch.

"'_It's just a few more days!'_" Jane mimicked Maura's tone with a vile sneer, glaring at her best friend, who for a moment felt entirely convinced the woman on the bed couldn't possibly be the same person she shared a bed with only a few nights previously. The hatred etched in every line and crevice of Jane's face that was so familiar, and yet alien in that moment, was so far removed from her usual good humor and softness that Maura's eyes instinctively flicked towards the door, seeking an escape route. "You're not the one lying in this bed like a fucking corpse!" Jane shouted, spittle flying, face contorted in a vicious snarl, "I'm not an invalid! And I'm not a fucking child either!" Jane picked up the glass of water beside her and hurled it across the room, where it shattered against the wall. Both women watched as the tiny beads of water and glass continued to hit the floor, almost in slow motion, as if time stopped when Jane first picked up the glass. Neither spoke until the door opened and a stooped, white haired nurse timidly popped her head around the frame.

"Everything okay?" The woman asked gently, although it was obvious that no, everything was not okay, since her patient's face was red and shone with sweat, and there was such pure, unadulterated rage burning in every pore that nobody could mistake it.

"Fine, just a little accident, that's all." Maura eventually said, taking everything in her stride as she crossed the room with a warm smile on her face, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Well if you're sure…" The nurse uttered uncertainly, returning Maura's smile because it was just too difficult not to.

"Quite sure, thank you." Maura said, closing the door behind the tiny woman and then leaning her back against it, closing her eyes, trying to shut out the devastation around her and the rage that was most likely still emanating from Jane. After a moment, she let herself slide down the door until she was resting on the floor, and only then did she cry.

* * *

When Frankie Rizzoli entered the room, he immediately knew something had happened. Something big. He might not be a Detective quite yet, but it didn't take Sherlock Homes himself to read the situation before him. His gaze went from Jane, who was lying on the bed, silent and sullen, her brows drawn together indicating her current mental state, to the stain on the wall to his right, to Doctor Maura Isles, who had pushed the chair beside Jane's bed towards the window and was staring out into the city, as silent as her best friend. Frankie stood in the doorway for a moment, the immensity of what he was about to tell his big sister and his friend weighing heavily on his mind. When Korsak called earlier and told him what he was about to divulge… Well let's just say he didn't react well. How was somebody supposed to act when they heard something like that? He was pretty sure other people would have completely lost their shit, but he managed to keep it together long enough to listen to all the information, process as much of it as possible and then request that he be the one to deliver the news to Jane. _'Okay Frankie, just say it. Just get it out there and then at least that way it's done. You can do this. You gotta be strong for Janie,' _his mental pep talk did little to calm his rattled nerves or settle the rage boiling in his gut. There was nothing he wanted more than to have ten minutes alone with Mr. Harold Jefferson.

"Janie…" There must have been something in his tone for immediately; both women looked directly at him. Two pairs of intelligent eyes settled on the young Officer as he wrestled with his emotions, trying and failing to think of the best way to phrase the information. He realised that there was no way to sugarcoat this. No way in hell.

"Jefferson made it through surgery and woke up from his coma."

Those words were like a heavy boot to the stomach for Jane Rizzoli. She gasped like a fish trapped on shore and for a moment; she just sat there, uncomprehending. _'This can't be happening. I shot the bastard. I shot him in the chest. What are the odds of surviving that?! This can't be happening…' _A strangled sob fell from the Detective's lips before she had the chance to choke it back and she covered her face with two scarred, bandaged hands, trying to rein in her emotions before they entirely swallowed her whole.

"They're moving him to his very own cell as soon as he's fit enough…" Frankie crossed the room in three long strides, sat down on the bed and enveloped his sister in a desperate embrace, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body trembling with the force of them.

* * *

A few hours later, after dinner had been served and Jane had looked at the offerings on her tray like they had been concocted by the devil himself, Jane glanced at her best friend who was dozing in the chair, which she had moved back to the side of the bed after Frankie left. They were yet to discuss Jane's actions, and she had spent most of the time cursing herself up and down for being so violent in front of Maura. Sighing to herself, Jane reached out and plucked Maura's book from the cabinet, biting her lip as a bright slash of agony flared in her abdomen, and flicked it open to the page Maura had inserted the small card to mark her place. As the thin slip of paper dropped onto her lap, Jane froze. Delicately, she used her thumb and forefinger to lift the object until it was level with her eyes, and she stared. She recognized the tiny scrap of paper, just as she recognized her own dark scrawl on its surface.

**_See you tonight, my place, seven sharp! Don't work too hard Doc!_**

**_Love Jane._**

The note was at least two years old. In fact, she distinctly remembered snatching a pen from Korsak's desk and scribbling that sentence down before she jogged to the elevator, ran down to Maura's office with a stupid grin on her face, slapped it down on her friend's desk and then went home, never to give it another thought. And yet here it was in her hand. It was barely even crumpled or stained. It looked like it might have been handed to the Doctor yesterday. Maura had thought this little note important enough to keep around for two years. Jane wasn't quite sure when she started sobbing, but she was certainly aware of the moment two hesitant arms went around her and pulled her head onto an alluringly soft chest.

"I'm so sorry Maur… I'm so sorry," she managed to choke out, only to have her apologies shushed away and her body rocked back and forth for the second time that day. "I'm trying," she whispered softly into the soft, strawberry scented, blonde curls her face was immersed in.

"Me too Jane." Maura whispered soothingly, "And we can keep on trying until the day comes when it isn't so hard to try anymore."


	19. That's Where I'll Be

Maura's fervid glances around the room and towards the door, which had been occurring with greater frequency as the minutes wore on, amused Jane endlessly. The woman was acting as though she had just robbed a bloody bank or something. That was Maura Isles for you, honest and innocent to a fault. But Jane did not feel in the least guilty about corrupting her friend, the mere thought of the cold beer sitting just inside Maura's bag was practically causing her to foam at the mouth. She would admit it, she was fucking _desperate_ to drink that beer, but Maura had insisted they wait until the nurses had made their last rounds of the evening and the other patients had settled down for the night. Jane had snorted in her friend's face when she enquired, in complete and utter sincerity, if she could be arrested for bringing alcohol into a hospital. Jane had then told her, with as straight a face as she could possibly muster, that no, she would not be thrown in jail for such an act. A response which didn't do much at all to quell the Doctor's evident discomfort whenever anyone aside from members of the Rizzoli family entered the room evening. Jane was sure she saw the Doctor's chest and neck area starting to redden with hives as the stress of inadvertently lying, or at least hiding the evidence, began grating on her conscience.

"Maura! Relax will ya?" Jane chuckled softly, leaning forwards suddenly and instantly regretting the rather adventurous movement as pain bloomed in her shoulder. Gritting her teeth against the pain to avoid worrying Maura, she reached behind her back and resettled the pillows, leaning against them with a groan of satisfaction when she had them positioned exactly where she wanted. _'Bastard shoulder, bastard Jefferson, bastard bed,' _ Jane thought to herself as her body grew accustomed to the shift in position and slowly, the pain lessened enough for her to focus her attention on Maura once more, who was on her hands and knees, reaching under the bed for the bag which contained the 'illegal' items. For a moment, the Detective allowed her gaze to travel the length of Maura's toned thighs, sculpted beautifully by the tight pants she had adorned, towards her, to put it politely, very appealing _gluteus maximus. _She took advantage of the fact Maura couldn't see her eyes travelling unabashedly from her legs to ass to waist to back to her feather soft hair parting slightly at the base of an elegant neck. Jane, although she knew it wasn't exactly polite to ogle one's best friend whilst they were in such a prone position, couldn't seem to help herself. And when Maura's now slightly red face popped up at the side of the bed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eye, Jane jumped and promptly averted her gaze, cheeks coloring.

"I'm still convinced we shouldn't be doing this." Maura said, pursing her lips as she extracted two bottles of Jane's favourite beer from the bag dangling in her hand. Jane, whose eyes were now shining with the prospect of tasting such a delicious treat that she had been deprived of for so long, turned her imploring eyes on Maura and whined a little, from the back of her throat. She knew for a fine fact that Maura Isles was a sucker for her puppy dog eyes, and sure enough the bottle was in her hand with the cap off in seconds. Jane eagerly tilted the bottle to her lips and as soon as the first few drops hit the tip of her tongue, she was in heaven. Absolute, pure, unadulterated heaven. A noise that resembled a sob of satisfaction escaped the Detective as she took a healthy mouthful of the crisp, slightly bitter liquid and swallowed, savoring the familiar taste before taking another swig, unaware of Maura's eyes locked intently on the rim of the bottle disappearing between her lips. The Doctor took a sip of her own beverage, really only to provide a distraction from the strangely erotic sight before her and sat at the side of the bed, waiting for Jane to speak.

"Oh Mary mother of Christ… God almighty above that's fucking good!" Jane exclaimed, hungrily taking another long pull of beer and wincing only slightly when the glass bottle smacked against a sensitive tooth. Maura wrinkled her nose in distaste at Jane's language and gave her friend's knee a light squeeze.

"Is it not entirely inappropriate to refer to one's God in relation to alcohol and curse words?" She enquired, resisting the temptation to lean forwards and kiss away the smirk that had made an appearance on Jane's face.

The Detective rolled her eyes and replied, "Jesus turned water into wine didn't he? I'm sure the man would be happy to share a beer with me." Maura rolled her eyes and placed her bottle onto the cabinet, unsure of what exactly Jane wanted her to do now that she had provided the alcohol she was convinced she was at liberty of being prosecuted for if anyone were to discover she had brought it into a hospital, of all places.

"You shouldn't even be drinking due to the amount of narcotics in your system…" Maura said and then stopped herself. She should just let Jane enjoy the moment. She hadn't exactly had much to enjoy the past couple of weeks. The Doctor flashed Jane a smile and then pulled her other leg up onto the bed to cross them in one of her favourite yoga lounging positions, noticing the way Jane's eyes immediately flicked directly to her now exposed crotch area and then back down her leg before coming to rest on her face again. "You can have the rest of mine as well as long as you drink water in between." Maura offered, unable to resist the need to make Jane smile seeing as she had been starved of that familiar grin whilst that son of a bitch had her locked inside a cage. And Jane did indeed smile. In fact, she beamed at her friend, greedily eyeing the bottle to her left, calculating how much water Maura would force her to drink before allowing that bottle to come anywhere near her lips.

"Thanks Doc," Jane said quietly, knowing what it took for Maura to break the rules and reveling in the fact she did it for her, and usually only her.

Maura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged, "Anything for you Jane," she said gently, delighting in the way Jane's eyes immediately softened and a shy smile lit up her face, which was still sporting a number of healing bruises and cuts that had been taped together, holding the tender skin in place to encourage the healing process and prevent scarring. "I did try to convince Doctor Lewis to allow you to come home with me sooner than she advised. I even offered to employ a nurse to provide us with any assistance we might need…" Jane's face darkened at the mention of her Doctor's name, but then she cocked a half smile at her friend and rolled her good shoulder back in a muddled shrug.

"Thanks for trying." She said, clearly referring to their recent conversation.

"She was rather against the idea, to say the least. I trust her professional opinion of course, but I can't help wondering if perhaps it would be more beneficial to continue treatment in a more…" Maura cast her gaze around the small, practical room and continued, "Comfortable, familiar environment."

Jane took a small sip of beer, determined to make it last as long as possible, and replied, "I'll give it a couple more days, and if she doesn't let me out then, I'm discharging myself. Simple." Maura bit the tip of her thumb and eventually nodded her consent.

"You know that I will support whichever course of action you choose to take," She said delicately, and Jane reached for her friend's hand. Maura met the proffered hand in the middle and held it tightly.

"I know." Jane said, braving an attempt at another smile.

* * *

An hour later, Maura found herself lying beside her best friend, her arm and leg wedged comfortably against Jane's, who had insisted the Doctor lie down before she_ 'got a back strain from sitting all weird.' _Maura had informed the Detective that such an injury was unlikely just as a result from sitting in the position she had been in for such a short period of time, but just as she had before, Jane soon lost patience with her and tugged her arm, physically encouraging Maura to lie alongside her. And although she was unsure of what to conclude with regards to Jane's desire to be close to her in this confined environment, she wasn't about to say no. Maura heard a tiny hiss escape her friend as she shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable and failing miserably due to her damaged shoulder in conjunction with the many wounds on her too-skinny body. Maura winced, imagining how painful any movement must be, and tilted her head in order to squint at Jane in the semi darkness. She could just about pick out the strong chin and proud nose on Jane's exquisite face. Everything else was blurry and distorted.

"Does it hurt terribly?" Maura whispered, "Your shoulder?"

"Like a bitch," Jane replied ruefully, "Worth it though. I couldn't let him hurt you." Jane murmured, turning her own head only slightly. Now, their foreheads were almost touching, and each woman had to concentrate on maintaining even breaths, for their close proximity was more than distracting; it was intoxicating. Maura bit down on her lip, loathe to start crying when she should be the one providing Jane with a sense of comfort right now.

"Oh Jane… It would have made more logical sense for you to allow him to shoot me, seeing as you were already hurt…" Maura said, ghosting her hand up and down Jane's arm, desperate to engage in any type of contact she could without scaring her friend off the subject she had been previously trying so hard to avoid discussing. The Detective chuckled, her breath tickling Maura's cheek and eliciting a shudder from the smaller woman, which she hoped Jane would either miss, or ignore.

"What kinda friend would I be if I let ya get shot?" She drawled. Somehow, whenever the distance between her body and Jane's became almost nonexistent, Maura thought Jane's drawl was always more pronounced.

"A sensible one." Maura stated simply, feeling the tremors in Jane's body as she laughed quietly. A minute or so of silence fell between them. There was no sense of awkwardness or tension. It was the silence that can only be found between two people comfortable enough with one another to neglect the need to fill any gaps in conversation. Some of their most profound and deep conversations had taken place without words.

It was Jane Rizzoli who finally spoke. "When I felt that gun in your pocket… I couldn't believe it." Jane paused, "Didn't think you had it in you." She added after a moment. Maura unconsciously tightened her fingers around Jane's bicep as she considered her reply. An action that did not go unnoticed by the Detective.

"I wanted to shoot him." Maura blurted out, then pressed on before she lost her nerve, "I wanted, more than anything aside from finding you… To shoot him." She confessed, feeling her stomach knot at the thought of how Jane might react to her admission. Maura needn't have worried.

"Welcome to the club," Jane smiled, although her tone was not indicative of any emotion that would warrant a smile. "I'm glad I shot him. I'm just sorry he didn't die." Perhaps in another situation, Maura might have been taken aback by this. Maybe she would have attempted to convince the Detective that she was better than that, she was too good and true and brave to succumb to such a dangerous desire, but not now. No, Maura knew that if she had been presented with the opportunity to shoot Jefferson, then she would have pulled the trigger without so much as a second's hesitation.

"I was so scared Jane…" Maura said, her voice trembling. "I thought… I thought I was never going to see you again." The Doctor choked out, burying her face in the soft pillow in an attempt to halt her tears. It was no use, they poured forth with a vengeance, having been held back for so long. Jane reached out, hesitantly at first, but then with a touch more confidence, and tenderly brushed the tears from beneath Maura's lashes with the pads of fingers free from the barricade of bandages and tape.

"Hey… C'mon, don't cry… I hate it when you cry…" Jane said around the football sized lump in her throat, fighting her own desire to break down and sob. Maura fiercely wiped the remaining tears from her face even as yet more fell to replace them, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry Jane…"

The woman in question cupped Maura's cheek, exerting more pressure than she had been a moment before, and growled, "Don't apologize to me, Maura. You have nothing to be sorry for." An internal battle waged within Jane's mind. There was something she wanted to say, but she feared the consequences. Eventually, her heart won the battle, and she whispered, leaning even closer to her friend, "You saved me Maura. And I don't just mean… I don't just mean when you found me…" _'Tell her tell her tell her!' _Her mind chanted ruthlessly, and as she gazed into the teary, hazel eyes level with her own, she realised she couldn't fight anymore. She only hoped Maura would catch her like she had done so many times in the past. "Whenever he hurt me, I would think of you. When I was lying on that cold floor, hurting like hell and wishing I would just die… I thought of you, and your smile… And it made me want to live." Jane was now crying freely now, unable and unwilling to hold back the flood. "You made me want to fight, because…"

"I love you."

Two voices, both very different, one sweet and almost melodic, one gruff and raspy, said those three words simultaneously. And then, two very different pairs of eyes widened, and two very different mouths fell open.

"You do?" Jane said incredulously, disbelief etched deeply in her voice. Maura gently drew her finger across Jane's parted lips, nodding her head vigorously.

"I do. I love you Jane. I love you…" She paused, took a deep breath and then said, "I think, in some way, I always have." Jane released a strangled sob from way down deep in her chest and Maura pulled the brunette into her body. And although it was awkward and clumsy and a little bit wet for all the wrong reasons due to their tear stained faces, it was the best hug either of them had ever experienced. When Jane pulled back slightly to gaze into Maura's eyes, the Doctor cocked her head to one side, then said, quite matter of factly, "I'm going to kiss you now," to which Jane's response was to nod numbly. Maura leaned impossibly closer and pressed her lips to Jane's. it was tentative to begin with, both terrified of making a mistake or the other pulling away, but soon enough soft lips met and parted furiously. The kiss started off chaste, yet firm, but soon grew in its intensity and passion until tongues wound around each other and engaged in a battle for dominance that neither needed nor wanted to win, and teeth clashed together. The kiss wasn't what either of them had been expecting. Having spent most of their adult lives kissing men, aside from the odd female endeavor that never led to anything more than a painfully awkward morning after, they had been fantasizing about this in all the wrong ways. Everything from the way Jane gently brushed her hand through Maura's hair as she delicately dipped her tongue inside an eager mouth, to Maura's quiet humming as she nibbled on a bruised lower lip, was far more intimate and beautiful than any of their daydreams.

Jane was the first to pull away and she pressed her forehead against Maura's before giving them both a moment to catch their breaths. She whispered, "Maura… I love you, so much… " Her voiced wavered and she cleared her throat, "But… I don't know if I'm… I'm strong enough to do this." Maura cupped Jane's flushed cheek and encouraged her to look up and witness the sincerity in her eyes, the earnest expression on her face.

"Wherever you are Jane, in your mind or physically, that's where I'll be too. If you're in a dark place, I'll be there to shine the light for you. If you're happy or sad, I'll be there to laugh with you or _make _you laugh. That's how this is going to work Jane, I'm ready for it. I'm ready for you Jane Rizzoli, so don't you tell me you're not strong enough, because you are. And even if you're not, I am." Jane, overcome with the sheer volume of barely repressed power and fierceness in Maura's voice, could do nothing except take a shaky breath and duck her head to capture Maura's lips once more, the connection of their burning lips serving as the seal to their shared promise.

* * *

**A/N:** How are we all enjoying the story? I do hope you are! It's incredibly addictive writing about these two. Someone brought up a good point about Maura offering to take Jane home, and I put that in there. I just think it's more realistic for Jane to spend longer in hospital. Think of this chapter as the 'eye of the storm,' we're about to hit some major turbulence soon dear readers.


	20. Homeward Bound

Over the past couple of weeks Detectives Frost and Korsak had done their utmost best to field calls from every goddamn newspaper and journalist from up and down the city. There was only so much one could do when it came to reporters. Each and every one of them, or at least the ones with conviction, determination and a desire to make the headlines and gain promotions, were relentless. Frost once referred to a group of them who had gathered outside a particularly gruesome crime scene within an hour of it being cordoned off as 'a bunch of sharks.' Detective Jane Rizzoli agreed with him. She was sure they could smell blood from their cramped little offices and when one of them caught a whiff of a juicy piece of meat ripe for exposition and exploitation, well he or she would alert the rest of the pack and they would come running in their hoards. Police barricades and protests of 'No comment!' did little to prevent the leak of information. Another well known fact about reporters was that they could gather intelligence faster than the goddamn FBI, and if they couldn't get the information they wanted, they would embellish whatever snippets they did have and weave an intricate, eye catching, detailed segment that was around five percent truth, and ninety five percent horseshit. Of course, this was a rather generalized manner of thinking, but for the officers in the Boston Police Department, it grew more and more difficult with every passing week to maintain whatever respect they had for reporters when it appeared to them that their only desire was to expose their failings, and wring out every last drop of blood from whichever new disaster had befallen their beat. In short, members of the press were not to be trusted, they were to be handled with the greatest amount of caution possible, and under no circumstances was it acceptable to tell them anything of any importance, great or small.

* * *

_**Frankie:**__ There's that little prick Hunter with the stupid hair. It's definitely a wig. Oh my god it just moved in the wind it is a wig! Ha! I knew it! What's he staring at…? Is he looking at Doctor Isles like that?! Dirty old man! If he looks at her that way again I might have to arrest the creepy, wig-wearing sod._

_**Korsak:**__ Christ save us, this is bloody ridiculous! It's been two weeks, you'd think they'd get tired of waiting for us to give them something other than __**'Detective Rizzoli is in a stable condition. We are grateful to have her home alive. Thank you for your support.'**__ It was a shitty quote anyway, I should've asked Frost or Frankie to write it. I suppose we can't blame them for being desperate to get a look at her. She is a hero figure for them after all. A survivor._

_**Angela: **__This is like something out of a film! And to think I thought they would have gotten bored a day after Janie came back to us. That woman over there looks just about ready to burst with excitement. Have mercy, look at that little man! He's waving his arm like he's been Jane's friend for years! Doesn't he look the fool? Oh well, so long as Barold reads them that speech he prepared it should be okay._

_**Frost:**__ And here they all are, in the pissing rain, holding onto their huge ass umbrellas and screaming at us for a quote or a comment. I can't blame a man for doing his job, but that's exactly what they do. That bitch over there accused me of being crooked once upon a time, almost cost me my badge. If they get any closer to Rizzoli I might just have to go all secret service on them._

_**Maura:**__ Perdita Constablez, what an impressive woman. She has a truly marvelous grasp of the English language. I do hope she supports Jane in whatever angle she chooses to pursue in her news piece. I highly doubt Jane would be pleased to hear that she had been accused of police brutality or some other nonsense as she has done before. Surely, in this case, there was no plausible manner of accusing Jane of being anything but innocent?_

_**Jane:**__ Don't make eye contact with the vultures... Aww shit shit shit trust you to catch __**that **__bastard's eye! He hates your guts Rizzoli, bet he's loving the view from over there, watching the big, brave Detective rolling down in a wheelchair covered with a tartan bloody blanket like an old woman. Urgh, and there's Constablez looking suitably sympathetic, hope your umbrella catches the wind and you float the fuck away from me, you smarmy, cocky bitch. _

_God this is fucking demeaning. _

_I wish they would stop staring at me like that._

"Detective Rizzoli! Can you tell us what it was like being held captive?!"

"Jane! Jane, how does it feel to finally be out of hospital?!"

"How does it feel to have your best friend back Doctor Isles?!"

"Rizzoli, how does it make you feel to know Jefferson's alive?!"

"How are you feeling Detective Rizzoli?! Just a word from you Detective!"

_Feel._

_Feel feel feel. How does it make you __**feel**__ Detective Rizzoli?_

_How does it __**feel **__to be a victim? How do you __**feel **__about having every ounce of your dignity stripped away? How does it __**feel**__ to have us screaming questions in your face? How does it __**feel **__having every inch of your body hurt at once? How does it fucking __**feel **__Janie?!_

The onslaught, at least for Jane, was overwhelming. Men and women clambered over themselves, taking pictures of a white faced, tight lipped Detective Rizzoli, who steadfastly refused to even glance at the owners of the insistent voices screaming her name. She looked up only once, and not out of curiosity or fear, but confusion. It was raining, but she wasn't getting wet, and for some reason her hazy, reeling mind couldn't seem to quite comprehend how that was possible. Jane caught sight of the grim determination etched on her best friend's face as she marched alongside the wheelchair and Frankie, who was pushing it along much faster than anyone else could manage. Maura was holding an umbrella aloft as if she was heading into battle and here it would serve as her shield against the masses. The normally reserved Detective couldn't help herself upon seeing the Doctor striding with such indignation on her face as she glared at any member of the press who got just a little too close to their entourage, yet such immense concern in her eyes, which never seemed to waver from Jane even when she took an opportunity to do yet more glaring. Jane reached out her hand, which was still bandaged and would be for a while yet, and took hold of the Doctor's, never breaking eye contact even as hazel eyes brimmed with tears and her own throat burned with the emotions roiling inside of her. Someone, three bodies deep in the crowd, shouted, "There's the front page picture!" Before happily capturing the shot, oblivious to the fact his faint voice had been drowned out by so many others. That didn't mean no-one else got the same shot, because they did. And tomorrow morning, they each intended to have that touching image plastered above their names. Oh they could see it now.

Doctor Isles found herself growing increasingly furious with the complete and utter lack of respect and understanding from the crowd of reporters relentlessly hurling questions their way. And just as Detective Frost began straightening his tie, preparing himself to step forward and give the prepared statement, Maura stepped in front of their small group and all but snarled,

"Detective Rizzoli is recovering from numerous serious injuries!" Maura glanced at her adopted family and then back to the press, "She's exhausted, we all are. We appreciate your position, but if you could just spare even a shred of common decency and allow Detective Frost here to present his statement so we can go home, it would show you as a group of concerned and respectful _professionals _as opposed to the stereotypical image that all reporters are _barbarians _which you somehow appear to be so keen on upholding!"

Not a single word was said following Maura's outburst. It was clear that if even the impeccable, composed Doctor Isles felt the need to step into the fray, then it had gone too far. So the crowd was quiet, whispering among themselves as Detective Frost delivered his well rehearsed speech without a hitch, and as Detective Rizzoli and her family once again resumed their interrupted journey to their cars, all that could be heard over the sound of the rain and the wind, was the distinct clatter of hands in a round of applause meant as their own way of paying respect to the brave Detective and the people who helped bring her home.

* * *

When Jane pleaded with her Mother to leave them alone for the night and return in the morning when she had settled in, Maura was concerned, of course she was, but she wasn't yet overly concerned. That was just normal for Jane. Having her interfering Mother around when she didn't feel up to dealing with her eccentricities was simply not going to happen. So Maura let it slide.

When Jane asked Maura if she would leave her alone whilst she showered and washed off the cloying scent of the hospital she spent so much time in, Maura was worried, how could she not be? But she wasn't overly worried, because Jane Rizzoli was a bit of a prude, and even if she had to lie on the floor and let the water cascade over her body before hauling herself out in bitter agony, she would rather suffer those things than have Maura see her naked and exposed.

When Jane didn't emerge from said shower within ten minutes, Maura was distressed, there was no escaping her distress at the mere thought of Jane being in pain and refusing to call out for her, but she wasn't overly distressed, because she could hardly blame Jane for her need to sluice away any reminders of her time lying in that bed for hours and days on end.

But when Maura pressed her ear to her bathroom door after twenty minutes and received no reply when she shouted for her friend, she would admit to anyone that she was terrified. And the use of that word was no exaggeration. A plethora of possible injuries sustained by slipping in the shower tumbled in the Doctor's mind as she charged through the door.

Instead of a bleeding and unconscious Jane Rizzoli, she found her curled up on the floor of the bath; skin pink and angry looking from her scrubbing at it near places she had sustained more serious injuries. In all its terrible glory, Maura could now finally see the true damage Jefferson had inflicted upon her friend. (She was yet to start thinking of Jane as her girlfriend as Jane had not mentioned their kiss in the few days following the event, and Maura couldn't bring herself to push her.) Although swaddled in plastic wrap to ensure no water entered her healing wounds, Maura could plainly see the gashes on Jane's skin from the whip he favored. She could see the coarse black stitching drawing together ragged wounds, the burns, the abrasions, the bruises that were in the slow process of healing. She could see it all. Every single injury felt like a knife twisting in the Doctor's gut. She hadn't known it was possible to ache from the inside out for someone you love. That was an influential factor in the time it took her to admit her true feelings. Never before had she so consistently and unrelentingly ached for another human being. And here, watching her brave Detective sobbing so brokenly on the floor, the ache fixed itself in the pit of her stomach and grew; it produced branches that pierced her heart, her lungs, her brain… Just like Jane had done with such casual efficiency.

"Don't look at me Maura." The sound of the hoarse, pleading voice coming from the woman she loved was enough to bring the good Doctor back to herself. And before she could think her reply through, it was already leaving her mouth,

"I'll still find you beautiful Jane." There it was, an unfiltered, outspoken reply, one that she could never take back. One that she could never regret, for the sincerity echoed around the bathroom so that even Jane couldn't mistake the truth in her declaration. The fresh torrent of sobs told the Doctor that for now, she had almost succeeded in countering Jane's self disgust.

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay! Hope you liked this chapter.


	21. The Abyss

Four days had passed since Maura brought her best friend back into the home she now regarded as belonging to them both. There simply was no easy way to differentiate between their lives. Jane had a toothbrush here. Maura stored bottles of medicine in her cabinet that only Jane would use. Jane added things to her cupboards and fridge perhaps as often as she did herself. What began with the Detective crashing on her couch with a blanket thrown over her after a long day at work soon morphed into the same woman falling asleep in her bed, with a designated _side_ no less. That soon escalated into an unspoken agreement that if Jane was staying, then Jane would stay in her bed, and if one of them woke up wrapped in the other's arms, well that was just fine. That was normal for close friends.

For so long, this house was nothing more than bricks and mortar. A place to bathe, eat and sleep. There was no joy, no laughter and no real sense of _belonging._ It took far more than a vast array of expensive and tasteful ornaments and furniture to make a human being feel like they _lived_ inside a house consisting of bricks and mortar. It took a lot more than filling the seemingly endless silences with classical music turned up as loud as she could stand it, it took more than switching on the television and pretending, just for a moment, that the voices radiating from it belonged to her friends, her family.

Maura Isles tolerated the nights spent alone. She was content enough. She knew she was lucky to be so privileged whilst others struggled to survive. Maura knew all of this, and therefore she was willing to settle for meaningless affairs with less than interesting men, all of which were entirely fine at the time, but soon, she knew the end would come. There was no harm in having someone to shamelessly call _'mine,' _even if she didn't class herself as being_ 'theirs.'_ Nobody stayed forever, not even Ian, who she was so sure she would love forever. It's clear now, the supposed 'love' she held for Ian could never match up to what she felt for Jane. No-one could ever compare to Jane Rizzoli.

In the four days since Jane was released from hospital, she hadn't done much aside from sit quietly on the couch or in bed. Maura didn't want to push her. She wasn't even sure if she could cope with hearing about what happened.

Maura was used to dealing with the evidence lying prone and silent on her examination table, but she wasn't used to a silent Jane Rizzoli. She was a Doctor. She was comfortable with facts, figures, evidence, reports that she could read and decipher and form fair, unbiased conclusions. When it came to Jane, nothing was ever as simple as that. Maura knew Jane and Jane knew Maura. The problem was that now, she needed to form a new hypothesis; she had to analyze, correlate and produce conclusions with a completely different set of data.

The Jane Rizzoli she was faced with now was not the same Jane Rizzoli as before.

But if there was one other thing her occupation had ever taught her, it was that even when standing in the face of a seemingly impossible puzzle, a problem of such immense proportions that there was no end in sight, or _'light at the end of the tunnel,' _(an expression she found woefully vague and unclear, but nevertheless appreciated its intent) giving up wasn't a viable option.

'_Actually',_ thought Maura as she lay awake in her bed, ears straining to pick up any sounds from the guest bedroom, '_Perhaps it would be more accurate to ascertain that it was Jane who taught me not to give up._' Without realizing, Jane taught Maura that she shouldn't give up on believing in herself and who she was as a person. That the influence of her biological Father paled in significance compared to who she was inside. She can still remember Jane exact words, _"You're still the same smart, amazing, goofy person that you were before," _and what she loved about that statement was that when she looked in Jane's eyes, she could see the sincerity and conviction etched deep inside them. Jane wasn't just telling her what she thought she would want to hear, she wasn't merely saying what she ought to say to a friend when that friend is emotional and overwrought… No, she was saying exactly what she believed. She was reassuring Maura that even if she was the spawn of the devil himself, she would never pay any attention to all of her claims of _'empirical evidence' _and _'genetic predisposition for crime.' _To Jane, Maura would always be Maura.

And now, she had to remember that Jane would always be Jane, regardless of her current emotional, physical and psychological state.

Perhaps that was why, when she detected the first stirrings of movement from down the hallway, when she heard the very first hoarse, strained shout drift through her open doorway, that Maura reacted wholly on instinct and without trepidation. Jane was awake, Jane was distressed, and therefore Jane needed her. For once in her life something that should be complicated appeared so transparently simple, so much so that as she jogged lightly down the hall, she felt no sense of fear. Maura didn't stop to ask herself if this was the right course of action.

When Maura neared the guest room she could hear the muffled noises coming from inside growing louder and louder as she approached. It gave her pause. Only for a fleeting second, for there was something strangely animalistic about the sounds meeting her ears. She stood, bare foot on the plush carpet, and strained, listening intently. Tiny, keening whines slithered their way under the door frame and worked their way up the good Doctor's gently shivering form and into waiting ears. Maura's heart seemed to slam forwards against her ribcage, almost urging her forwards although she knew that to be anatomically impossible. Nevertheless, she set her jaw and determinedly completed the rest of the journey.

Maura rapped her knuckles against the wooden door once, quite firmly, and waited quietly for a response. When none came, she smacked her fist against the unforgiving surface and ignored the bright burst of pain erupting from the sensitive skin located there. All noise from inside ceased as soon as her knuckles broke contact for the second time. Somehow, the silence was far worse.

"Jane, is everything okay?" Maura outwardly and inwardly cringed at her choice of words. The Detective was clearly not _'okay,' _and asking such a ridiculous question after what she had been through was nothing short of insensitive.

"Jane..." She said, concern drawing a clear edge beneath her words, underlining the fear she had been focussing intently on keeping a safe distance from the forefront of her conscious mind. Now was no time to allow fear to play games. There was nobody else in this house but she and Jane, her alarm system had been recently updated and she was sure it hadn't been breached.

But still, Maura couldn't quite muster the courage to open the door. She couldn't be afraid of Jane…? Could she?

But suddenly she felt herself become overwhelmed with the sudden overwhelming _need _to see Jane. She had to make sure she was still inside this room, still breathing, still undeniably here with her. She just needed to. And so Maura opened the door.

There was something almost otherworldly about the room. It was steeped and saturated with so much darkness it appeared unnatural. This darkness was everything but palpable. Maura felt that if she were to reach out, thumb and index finger a barely imperceptible distance apart, and attempt to pluck at the darkness she might be able to pull it clean away. Like a sheet. A sheet that had been carefully draped over the room in its entirety, shielding the woman encased within its protective, yet suffocating embrace.

The darkness wasn't about to deter Maura Isles. When she was a woman with a mission, an objective in mind, she was damn near unstoppable. Her hand slid purposefully up the wall to her left, fingers probing, anticipating eventual contact with the switch. When she found it, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief, and flicked.

Jane's reaction was instant and visceral. Maura's eyes widened almost to the point where every ounce of whiteness was on show, and she watched in shock as her best friend, who was pressed tightly into a ball in the corner of the room, started to rock backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

Her face was buried deep in her knees, which were pulled up tight under her chin. Maura cast her gaze around the room, searching for the source of the shrill, whining noise that was relentlessly penetrating her eardrums and writhing around inside her mind, causing her to unconsciously press one trembling hand against her temple in an effort to release some of the pressure building inside. It took her a total of eight seconds to realise that Jane was the source of that awful noise. Maura, who was shaking inside her thin nightgown, who had goose bumps erupting over her chilled skin despite the fact the room was balmy enough to neglect bed clothes, took a hesitant step forward.

"Jane?" She said, just loud enough for her to mentally scold herself and realise that if she wanted to reach her friend, she had to get a grip of her raging emotions. And she had to do it fast. "Jane," She repeated, this time with a little more force, a little more confidence. The Detective's only indication that she had heard her friend was to slide her scarred hands over her hidden face and into her tangled hair, which she tugged, and tugged, and pulled to the sides, emitting an even higher pitched whine as she did so. Swallowing thickly past the dread that had formed a clotted lump in her throat, Maura took another step into the room.

She recognized the woman before her. It was Jane. But perhaps Jane didn't recognize where she was, or who she was with. Maura had read studies; it paid to be aware of the potential psychological damage one can suffer after an ordeal such as those Jane had experienced. Maura liked knowledge. She felt safe shrouded in the comforting blanket of knowledge. But never in her life had she ever been confronted with anything like this, and for a moment she considered bolting from the room and running to fetch Angela. Maybe Angela could handle this. Maybe Angela could reach her daughter with greater ease than Maura ever could. Before she could give this cowardly option more than a fleeting consideration, Jane started to speak.

If there was ever a time Maura was prepared to resort to inaccurate, widely used colloquialisms to describe her reaction to a situation, it was now. Maura was 'frozen to the spot', her brain refused to comprehend what was happening, what Jane was saying.

"_Our father who art in heaven…"_

A prayer. But not one uttered with the quiet, respectful reverence Maura had often heard it being recited with during those rare times she would attend Church. Not with any sense of calm, not with any inclination that it might make Jane feel safe. No, this prayer sounded like it was being physically torn from Jane's unwilling throat in a voice so wracked with agony that Maura felt her knees buckle slightly under her weight as she listened.

"_Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth __**AS IT IS IN HEAVEN**__,"_

Jane's gruff voice steadily rose in pitch until she was almost shouting, screaming into her pajama clad knees. Maura emitted a quiet sob, her composure fracturing as she stood, useless, immobile, and ineffectual, in her complete lack of understanding.

"_**GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD…**__"_

Comprehension dawned on Maura just as the desire to run from the sight before her, from the terrifying sound of Jane's voice becoming so horrendously _tainted_ by the words she was uttering in the way she was saying them. '_Jefferson, he must have forced her to pray with him or for him. He would have known of her Catholic upbringing. This was just another method of torture.' _The thought gave Maura little comfort, but more confidence. She half walked, half stumbled across the room and slid onto her knees beside the Detective. Maura placed her hands on Jane's shoulders and squeezed, attempting to draw her friend's attention to her and away from whatever she was seeing inside her mind. What she hadn't been expecting was the blow to her chin that Jane landed on her as soon as she touched those shaking shoulders.

"Jane!" Maura called out shrilly as a balled up fist made contact with the underside of her jaw, sending her reeling backwards, almost onto her back. Dazed, confused, Maura ignored the pain in her face and stared at Jane, who had her eyes squeezed closed, and was muttering incoherently to herself, every muscle twisted and contorted. "Jane," she tried again, this time in a gentle whisper. Jane tried to shuffle away from her, but there was nowhere left to go, behind her there was only a wall. More bricks and mortar. "Jane, it's me. Maura. It's me honey," The Doctor forced the words from her uncooperative mouth and tentatively gravitated towards Jane again.

"NO!" Jane screamed, burying her head in her arms, which were crossed tightly over her knees. She took up her violent rocking backwards and forwards once more. "Please, please don't hurt me…" Jane pleaded, her voice small, tiny, childlike.

"Jane I'm not going to hurt you, I could never hurt you," Maura whispered, putting a tentative hand on the taller woman's bent leg. It instantly jerked away from her, leaving her feeling bereft. She could feel the tell-tale pulsing inside her mouth; she could taste the coppery scent of blood where she bit down on her tongue when Jane hit her. She knows the contusion will form a vivid bruise. Maura has always bruised easily, and the Detective is strong, even in this state.

Maura made the decision to move away from Jane. Not too far, perhaps a mere foot away from the still rocking form of her friend. Helplessly, she glanced around the room. Her eyes were drawn to the window. Any potential light source had been extinguished by her heavy curtains. But she could still imagine what the world would look like outside, in the light, during the day when the sun reached an optimal level of energy emittance. She chose to begin with the trees. The trees are in the midst of their cycle. Her voice, when she starts to talk at first, is shaky and prone to breaking on every third or fourth word, but soon, it strengthens,

"Jane, did you know that a leaf is an organ of a vascular plant, as defined in botanical terms? But actually, many types of leaves are adapted in ways almost unrecognizable in those specific terms and indeed, several structures found in vascular plants look like leaves but are not actually leaves; they differ from leaves in their structures and origins. Furthermore, deciduous plants in frigid or cold temperate regions typically shed their leaves in autumn…" Maura paused, inhaled a deep, steadying breath, and noted that some of the tension was starting to dissipate from Jane's body. Her arms had slackened their grip around her knees, but she was yet to look up. She was yet to uncurl her fists. "This mechanism to shed leaves is called abscission. They often change color, and turn yellow, a bright-orange, or red, as various accessory pigments (carotenoids and xanthophylls) are revealed when the tree responds to cold and reduced sunlight." Maura watched, utterly fascinated, as her words appeared to guide Jane into a more relaxed position. The Detective straightened her legs, ever so slightly, and allowed her fists to unclench. Still, she didn't raise her head.

Maura pressed on.

"The word autumn comes from the Old French word _autompne_ and was later normalized to the original Latin word autumnus. There are rare examples of its use as early as the 12th century, but it is generally regarded as becoming increasingly common by the 16th century. Before the 16th century, _harvest_ was the term usually used to refer to the season." Jane lifted her head, and Maura stopped for a moment, unable to form any words as Jane's swollen, bloodshot eyes latched onto hers and refused to break contact. Her friend's face was blotchy, stained with tears, and looked so achingly sorrowful that Maura found it difficult to continue to breathe, never mind speak. But she realised she had to. This was working. Somehow, her stream of useless information was pulling Jane back to her. And she'd be damned if she stopped now. "Autumn in poetry and other works of literature, has often been associated with melancholy. The warmth of summer has dissipated, and around the corner waits the chill of winter. I, on the other hand, tend to disagree. Wouldn't you say autumn is a beautiful season in its own right? Yes, the temperature decreases and nights grow longer, but when faced with the breathtaking beauty of so many trees erupting in a plethora of different hues of greens and reds and oranges…"

Maura's voice drifted away as Jane slowly, but deliberately crawled over to her and allowed herself to be held, in her lap, like a child. The Doctor quickly snatched control of herself and wrapped her arms around Jane, pulling her impossibly closer to her body, feeling comforted by the warmth radiating from her. "And Jane, the heart is a hollow muscle that pumps blood throughout the blood vessels by repeated, rhythmic contractions. It is found in all animals with a circulatory system. The average human heart, beating at 72 beats per minute, will beat approximately 2.5 billion times during an average 66 year lifespan. It weighs approximately 250 to 300 grams in females and 300 to 350 grams in males and is generally calculated to be about the size of a fist." Maura took hold of Jane's hand with her own and pushed them both over her breasts and directly over Jane's own frantically beating heart. "Breathe with me Jane, just concentrate on listening to my heart beat, while we feel yours. Just focus on that. Don't think about today, don't think about tomorrow, don't think about the past, just concentrate on us. Right here and now, just concentrate on us."

Jane quietly asks Maura to leave once she has control of her faculties again. Maura argues, but it is fruitless. She knows that Jane cannot stand to look at Maura after she has seen her lose control; lash out at the person she loves most. Jane cannot take being confronted with the rapidly forming bruise on Maura's chin. Not tonight.

And so Maura sleeps outside the guest room, on the floor, with her pillows and covers, next to Bass. In case Jane needs her again, in case her wounds need tending to, or in case she has a nightmare. It's cold and uncomfortable, but she stays there all night.

**A/N:** Well, that was a very difficult, but interesting chapter to write. Let me know what you thought if you can spare a moment, it's much appreciated. I also wikapedia'd the crap out of this, goodness knows where Maura gets all her info from.


	22. Better In The Long Run

'_Okay okay, Jesus H Christ how does everything get so spread out around in here? I wish I was as neat and tidy as Maura. Shit, is that my bra under the bed? ' _Jane gingerly inched her way down to the floor and grabbed the offending item from its strange resting place and eyed it suspiciously, as though expecting it to jump out of her hand and run off laughing into another hidey-hole. After a moment's preparation, the Detective used the edge of the bed to get her back onto her feet. The pain she was suffering was intense. It was difficult to believe everything happened over two weeks ago now. Her body still felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to every area. She felt like an old woman, crippled by limbs that have betrayed her by aging. She hadn't known it was possible to feel so much pain in many different places before, and yet feel an even greater amount inside. And no, she didn't mean her ribs or whatever other crap Jefferson managed to bruise when he kicked her repeatedly in the abdomen. Jane was sure that, despite Maura's claims it was impossible for the heart to physically hurt just from emotional turmoil; her heart was definitely aching as a result of her actions the previous night.

Detective Rizzoli brushed one long finger under her nose and glanced around the familiar room, recalling the first night she ever spent at Maura's large, expensive home. She had felt so overwhelmed by everything, the size, the décor, the fact the place _reeked_ of money and taste. And yet, as soon as Maura settled herself beside her on the bed, she felt a sense of inner peace. Jane slept well that night, better than she had done for weeks, months even. The Doctor always seemed to have that effect on her, calming her nerves and giving her the strength to control her rational and irrational fears. _'Yeah,'_ Jane thought to herself with a snort, _'And look where that got her.' _Seeing that large bruise forming on Maura's face, expertly concealed with make up and yet still so sickeningly evident to Jane, caused her to make a decision. One she knew Maura wouldn't be happy about, but nevertheless one she had to make. For both of their safety.

She had hurt Maura. That was unacceptable. Nope, she hadn't meant it, and it wasn't going to have any lasting damage, but the fact of the matter was she physically hurt her best friend. The woman she loved. The woman who, regardless of her failings, has always stood by her. And she hurt her. There was no way she could stay here. Not now. She had to get her ass home and start trying to piece her life back together. Cavanaugh had called and informed her that when she felt fit enough she was to start seeing a therapist. At first, she had been pissed by his insinuation that she was in need of some shrink's advice, but then Maura walked by and offered her a tired smile. Judging by the way the other woman's eyes contracted slightly, Jane knew it hurt her to smile. And knowing she was the cause of that? Well, it made her hate herself. It made her despise what she had become, and that was a weak, pathetic, broken, sorry excuse for a human being. Half of her blamed Jefferson and the other half blamed herself for letting him win.

Jane pulled off the cap off the pen with her teeth and squinted down at the paper in the semi darkness. She had dimmed the lights in the room right down; she couldn't risk drawing Maura's attention to her room. If she did, she knew she might lose her nerve. Jane curled her lip in disgust as she watched her left hand tremble in its efforts to hold the pen steady. She just couldn't seem to get rid of this nervous shaking. _'Right, focus Rizzoli,' _Jane tapped the pen thoughtfully against her tooth and then began to write, the words appearing in an untidy, battered scrawl. Jane thought it reflected her current state of affairs quite accurately.

_**Dear Maura,**_

_**I know I shouldn't be running out on you in the middle of the night like a coward, but fact is I couldn't say goodbye to your face. I don't have any other options. This is too much. It's too much for both of us and I can't stand what it's doing to you or looking at the evidence of what I did. I just can't. I'll go to the therapy like Cavanaugh said; I even took that guy's number you suggested. But I'll do it alone. We'll go back to being friends and it'll be easier for both of us. I love you Maura, and I know, for some reason, you love me too, or at least you think you do, and for that I'm so grateful. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you've done and all the crap you put up with. I'm sorry, and I love you.**_

_**I just can't allow this to break us. This will be better in the long run. **_

_**All my love,**_

_**Jane.**_

She guessed she was being almost honest. Maybe it really _would_ be easier for them if they were merely friends. And being almost honest was just going to have to do.

* * *

Jane's apartment felt cold and empty and vast. It was much smaller than Maura's house of course, and nowhere near as tastefully furnished. But it had always been home to her. That's why she had no idea why it felt so lonely to be standing in the middle of a place she once felt at home within. Little things dotted around provided painful reminders of the woman she left behind. On the counter sat a brochure for some new yoga class Maura was desperate to take, a pair of heels that were categorically _not _Jane's sat neatly behind the door in her bedroom where Maura accidentally left them one night they had too much to drink, her friend had also sneakily replaced the shabby old cushions on her couch almost without her even realizing. How had everything here become so… _Maura-fied? _With a resigned sigh, Jane limped down to the bedroom and dumped her bag onto the bed, not even bothering to empty it. She had used up most of her energy in getting here, and now she felt weak, dizzy and drowsy. She had to smile, slightly wistfully, at the thought of what Maura would say when she realised Jane had walked so far. She soon sobered when she felt her leg starting to tremble beneath her. Jane had to sit down before she fell down.

Before collapsing onto the sofa, Jane made her rounds. She checked the windows and doors, tested them against her weight, and slid her gun under the pillow she would be sleeping on. There was something oddly comforting about feeling the heavy weight of her service weapon. Jane stretched out on the couch, her body protesting every movement. She felt utterly bereft and hollow without the calming presence of the good Doctor either pressed into her side or simply being _there,_ puttering around the kitchen, humming to herself now and then, preparing some god awful salad for them to eat and for Jane to complain about. Jane scarcely noticed the tears pooling in her eyes and then snaking slowly down her pale, but slightly flushed cheeks. Sapped of every last ounce of energy, the Detective fell into a fitful slumber, her hand as close to her gun as possible without actually touching it. Her last conscious thought was of Maura.

But that was nothing new.

* * *

**A/N:** Just a short update seeing I was in the flow, thanks for all the reviews, follows and what not. It's good to know you guys like it. Also, I did a kinda bad thing… I _'borrowed'_ the words 'Better in the long run' from a song with the same name by Miranda Lambert. Give it a listen if you get a minute; it paints a real picture of what's happening here I think.


	23. Goodbye's Just A Word

_Maura thinks she has never seen anything as sexy as Jane Rizzoli's calmly assertive, wicked grin as she looms above her, gently threading a lock of her golden hair between her long, deliciously long, fingers. But then the next thing she does surpasses the previous assumption, for Jane ducks her head and exhales gently into Maura's ear, her warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin, and Maura can't hold back her groan any longer. She leans forward, buries her face in Jane's strong shoulder, and moans deeply, letting the sound run its course from her wet, wanting sex all the way to the tip of her tongue. _

_She has never been so fully consumed by desire for another human being before. It is actually terrifying to reflect upon how much she so desperately needs to feel Jane, taste Jane, run her lips and her tongue over every inch of skin available to her, and that which is not so readily available or on show. Maura shifts her legs shamelessly beneath the taller woman, a silent plea, an invitation, and Jane pulls back just enough to raise on eyebrow in that way that only she can manage. Without words, the Detective has asked every question, said every reassurance, and caressed every part of Maura's body and she's hardly even fucking touched her yet. And Maura, for once in her life, has lost the power of speech, and so she communicates with her eyes, and she presses her lips to the slightly salty skin of her soon-to-be-lover's neck. She has said yes to everything, and Jane is ready to respond. Finally, after all this time, they are both ready to cross their invisible line in the sand. _

_Jane brings her lips to Maura's slightly parted set and she glides her own effortlessly over them. Like it's natural, like it's easy, like they've been doing this for years. And even that simple, almost innocent, action sends Maura's heart beat soaring, forces her to focus on breathing, because somehow, in the midst of all these incredible sensations, she's forgotten how to. She would be so pissed if she were to blank out now, when they were on the brink of something incredible. Jane smiles into the kiss, and Maura finds herself smiling back, unable to stop herself from bucking her hips upward slightly. "Patience is a virtue Doc," Jane husks out, and Maura has to physically fight against the growing threat of her orgasm as the sound of the voice that is just the pure essence of sex itself filters its way into her buzzing brain. _

"_Oh fuck..." Maura groans, and this only heightens the Detective's amusement, eliciting a soft chuckle, which reverberates into Maura's chest._

"_I love you all hot and bothered Maura..." Jane says as she gently, lightly, agonisingly slowly lets her hand drift down Maura's rapidly heaving chest, the smooth expanse of flesh of her stomach and down to the hem of the underwear that is now completely soaked, and most definitely unsalvageable. Maura couldn't care less at this moment. She is far beyond the point of no return, and now she just wants Jane inside her sometime this century. _

"_Jane..." Maura growls, a warning note in her tone, as she watches Jane drag her tongue down towards her left breast. She's about to open her mouth to demand that tongue go further south when she feels the Detective casually suck the hard bud into her mouth and suddenly, she can't even think never mind speak. The sensation of Jane's warm mouth sucking on her nipple is enough to force her into lifting her hips again and again, seeking friction, contact, anything at all to be honest, she just needs relief. And soon. "Uhh Jane..." She pleads, pushing her hand into Jane's wild mane of curls, urging her downwards. _

_Before she has time to react to what's happening Jane has unceremoniously yanked her underwear down her legs and tossed it onto the floor. And then fucking finally, her mouth is on Maura's clit, sucking desperately, tongue flicking against the throbbing nub frantically, and Maura is practically screaming Jane's name..._

Maura woke to the sound of her own voice moaning Jane's name into her pillow, which she had been clearly biting down on. She was disappointed to realise she was alone in bed, and then she felt shame wash over her when she remembered why her guest room was at this present moment housing Jane Rizzoli whilst she was in grip of one of the most erotic dreams she has ever had. After a moment, Maura realised her hand was already inside her underwear, and, only because she was so maddeningly close, she rubbed her clit once, twice, three times and sent herself over the edge, being careful to smother her moans of ecstasy lest she wake her sleeping friend. As soon as her high has passed, Maura quickly made her way into the bathroom to shower away the evidence of what she had done. Not that it was the first time. But it was certainly the first time she had indulged herself with the object of her desire sleeping, blissfully unaware, down the hall. She wasn't sure why she felt so guilty. Perhaps it was because now she knew Jane felt the same way about her, and in doing this, she was depriving Jane? Maura knew this was an unlikely reason, considering she was sure it was going to be a long time before they even made it to sex.

Half one in the morning was a ridiculous time to be sitting in one's kitchen eating a sandwich, but Maura defended her actions mentally by reasoning that she hadn't exactly been eating well the past week. Taking care of Jane had been her man concern, and when she did eat, she found it wasn't an enjoyable task. It was fuel for her body, necessary fuel, but there was no pleasure. She ate because she had to. But this sandwich had to be the best thing she's ever eaten, hands down, Jane would say. Maura happily picked up the other half of her peanut butter and fluff sandwich and just as she bit down, she saw it. Resting innocently on her coffee table was a piece of paper that had not been there when she went to bed. Abandoning the half eaten sandwich, Maura was on her feet and hurrying towards the note in seconds. The Doctor read it through once in wide eyed disbelief, then again with anger roiling inside her veins, and then a third time with tears streaming down her face.

The bottle of wine is one that she picked out for Jane and herself one day. It was not an expensive brand, but one she knew Jane actually liked, and she would rather Jane drank cheap red wine and ingest its beneficial antioxidants than continue to drink bottle after bottle of beer. Maura, after scrutinizing her collection of glasses, instead plucked a coffee cup from her cupboard and set it down on the counter, taking satisfaction from the glugging sound of the red liquid pouring forth from the bottle clenched a little more tightly in her hand than it should have been. It was Jane's favourite mug. She had never voiced this favoritism, but Maura was aware of it. In large writing down the side it read _**'World's Best Detective.' **_After being made aware of a Christmas tradition that included buying someone a 'joke present' Maura selected this for Jane. And although the Detective had scoffed at it and warned her that she would definitely be purchasing a set of specially made scrubs with _**'QUEEN OF THE DEAD'**_ written on it in rainbow colours, Jane was yet to go a visit to Maura's home without using it.

By the second sip of wine the tears have dissipated, and Maura is left only with her logic.

By the third sip of wine Maura has, almost unconsciously, pulled on her running shoes.

By the fourth sip of wine Maura knows that she is just not prepared to let Jane walk out of her life in the dark of the night without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

By the fifth sip of wine there is a set of keys in Maura's hand, and she's whispering _goodbye_ and _behave _to Bass.


	24. Home To Me

Maura elected to simply let the slumbering Detective continue resting. She had no desire to prevent her friend from grabbing whatever sleep she could. It was clear that she needed it. Desperately. She sat herself down on the floor directly in front of the couch where Jane was lying, cocooned in a thick blanket, her face pinched as though she was concentrating hard on something. Her expression was reminiscent of the long minutes she spent gazing at crime scene pictures pinned to the boards that so often showcased whatever crime had most recently rocked some innocent person's world. Sometimes, Maura wondered exactly what the Detective saw when she stood there, completely still, her dark eyes narrow and focussed. Yes, she herself could see the physical evidence quite clearly. It was all there, neatly presented before them both.

And yet Jane always seemed to see something different. Something that couldn't be analysed or quantified or ran through a database. Maura could identify thousands of injuries, diseases and weapons amongst many more contributing factors involved in a crime, but Jane managed to look past all of that. Jane had the ability to take the physical evidence into account and then apply it to the situation, the circumstances, the 'victimology' and the motive. She could then draw her own conclusions from the amalgamation of data. Maura was a certified genius, but there was no way she could ever even attempt to recreate Jane's methodology. It was uniquely Detective Rizzoli.

Maura had watched her friend during interviews. She knew what Jane was capable of. She knew what Jane was capable of _becoming,_ when the need arose. The Detective had the capacity to move seamlessly from caring, understanding, emphatic friend of a victim or a victim's family member, directly into a one-woman tornado. She held the power to reduce grown men to quivering wrecks under her gaze. Jane wears a mask every single day. A mask of indifference, of confidence, of bravery. Underneath all of that... She was human. And watching her now, sleeping soundly, Maura had the privilege of seeing Detective McBadass without her defences. Stripped of her badge and her gun and her famously unfashionable suits, Detective Rizzoli was just Jane. She was just a woman who had gone through and witnessed some terrible things. Things nobody should have to experience. And although Jane would never cease to be that ball busting badass, to Maura, she was so much more than that. She was so beautiful and complicated and multi-layered... Just Jane was a thousand things. And Maura was more than willing to dedicate her life to discovering everything just Jane had to offer.

"Mau... Ra? Jeez, what are you doing here? Didn't ya see my note?" Jane grumbled in a voice still gruff and muffled by sleep. Instantly, Maura whirled around, grabbed Jane's face in both of her hands and pressed her lips to hers, driving every ounce of love and lust and passion and desire and feeling into that kiss, silencing the Detective more efficiently than anything else ever could. Maura pulled back and hissed, in a voice tinged with hysteria,

"Don't you _dare _walk out on me again, don't you ever _dare_ tell me what's best for me. _You_ are what's best for me, you Jane. Only you." Jane just stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she whispered quietly,

"Maura, I can't put you through this..." Her voiced cracked, catching in her throat, betraying the immensity and intensity of her raging emotions, prompting Maura to lean forward once more and capture Jane's lips in a gentle, yet firm kiss.

"No hear me out Maura..." Jane snapped, "How can you love this?" Jane disgustedly yanked back the thick blanket and gestured at her bandaged body, her scarred hands trembling slightly as they hovered above them. "How can I give you what you need like this? You deserve so much more than me, than this... I can't make you happy. I can't..."

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli, I love you. I don't just _think_ I love you, as your note so offensively suggested; I love you with everything I have. You think I loved Ian?" Maura's voice teetered on the edge of completely breaking with emotion. There were so many things she wanted to say. So many things she had to say. But right now, she just wanted Jane to know how much she loved her. And it seemed she the right place to start was with reassuring her Ian was nothing, _nothing_, compared to her. "You think I loved him more than I love you? I was in love with the idea of being in love with Ian, because he was the only man who ever left and then came back for me. Time and time again. But I'm not _in_ love with him, I never was. But I am in love with you. I am so completely, irreversibly in love with you Jane Rizzoli and I simply _refuse_ to continue to allow you to shut me out and close yourself off to me. Love is an unquantifiable emotion, but I'm convinced that if someone were to attempt to measure the depth and intensity of everything I feel towards you it would encompass the _entire goddamn universe_, and the universes around our universe and those yet to be discovered. You saved me from myself Jane Rizzoli, and you save me every day, you managed to pull me out of my sheltered, socially incompetent little world and you filled the emptiness in my life with your jokes and your smiles and your voice and kindness, even your pain, because your pain is my pain, don't you see that?"

Jane opened her mouth, prepared to argue, ready to fight. But she found herself unable to say anything for a long moment. She looked at Maura and saw the intensity of her own private feelings reflected back at her inside those familiar, kind, intelligent eyes.

"Maura... You deserve so much more than me... You deserve your knight in shining armour..." Jane broke off, her tongue seemingly deciding for itself that she had said enough.

Maura dipped her head and fiercely pressed her forehead against Jane's, forcing the Detective to look at her. Stare straight into her eyes, because she needed to see. She needed to see her. "Whatever you feel, I feel. You might be under the impression I saved your life a couple of weeks ago, and in the physical sense yes, perhaps I contributed. But you saved me years before. You came barrelling into my life and you changed me for the better in ways I could explain, and in others I could never attempt to define. Saying thank you would never be enough to adequately convey how grateful I am to have you in my life, that's why I hope to god I managed to have an impact on your life in all the ways I try to show you just how much you mean to me. You are home to me. You make anywhere and everywhere feel like home, because you're with me." Maura was gently smoothing her thumbs over the dimples and cheekbones and jaw lines she had memorised and grown to adore over the years, her face smudged with tears, earnest and sorrowful and loving all at the same time.

"Can't you see that I could never walk away from you? That I could never say goodbye? And that it hurts so badly every time you tell me to go. That it breaks my heart when you say you want us to go back to the way we were before... Because I can't. I can't do it Jane. I can't ever be content with just being your friend now I know you love me too, now I know the way your lips and your body feel against mine, now I know your beautiful, beautiful mind. I would rather spend the rest of my life alone. At least then I could still pretend..." Maura's breath hitched and she fought back the sobs. She had to finish what she set out to say. "And it's not going to be easy, it isn't going to be simple, it isn't going to fall into place immediately and we'll just live happily ever after... But you taught me that anything worth having is worth fighting for. And you are definitely worth fighting for Jane." Maura paused, sucked in a shallow breath between her teeth and then continued, "I fell in love with you a long, long time ago Jane. I fell in love with the woman who once thought of herself as broken..." Maura picked up the scarred hands resting beneath her and squeezed them tight, avoiding the stiff, bandaged thumb.

"You think these scars and the ones that _bastard _gave you make you weak, you think they represent your inability to protect yourself, and that he managed to break you... But Jane, these scars are here because you _survived_." Maura rasped, her efforts to force Jane to understand what she was feeling were literally draining her of strength, but still, she pushed on.

"These scars show that you fought, you were tortured and abused, but you fought back and you _survived_. That makes me so proud of you. It makes me so proud to know you and to have the privilege of being important enough to you that you call me a friend. They don't make you any less attractive, or desirable, or brave, or strong or beautiful to me." Jane dropped her head, tears dripping down gaunt cheeks and rolling off the end of her nose. Maura gripped her Detective's chin in much the same way as she had done in the midst of the woods, feeling Jane's blood pooling beneath her hands, sensing her life ebbing away right underneath her.

"And I will never stop loving you." Maura tipped the Detective's head back and gently drew her into another kiss. This time, Jane didn't fight her. This time, they simply melted together, like it was natural, like they had been doing this for years on end and it had become almost routine, partially expected. And yet it was raw and greedy. Maura couldn't seem to get enough of Jane's soft, yielding lips that parted ever so slowly and allowed her tentative entrance into the warmth and heat of her mouth. Maura pulled back just enough to whisper into the tiny space between the Detective's mouth and her cheek, right where her dimple appears,

"And Jane, a knight in shining armour is merely someone who has never had their metal truly tested."

* * *

**A/N:** The final quote is not mine, I would reference the author but I don't know who it belongs to. I think it fits Rizzoli perfectly.


	25. Forgiving and Relenting

Jane loved Maura in dresses, heels and skirts. Jane loved Maura in expensive blouses, tailored pants and leather boots.

Most of all, Jane loved Maura in her clothes. Seeing Maura wearing one of her sweatshirts, the material hanging loose on the smaller woman's petite body, gave Jane a warm glow of pleasure and admiration. She always felt privileged when the Doctor let her guard down and relaxed around her. Without the heels, make up and impeccably styled hair most other women might seem plain.

Not Maura. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Somehow Maura managed to look even more beautiful without all of these additions. The smattering of light freckles on her face gave the impression of youthfulness and innocence, although Jane knew better than most the fierceness of her best friend's personality, she could sometimes catch a glimpse of what the good Doctor may have looked like as a fresh faced teenager. And Jane would find herself falling just a little more in love with her.

Jane thought the idea of falling in love with someone repeatedly, every single day, was far-fetched and ridiculous. She never did place much faith in fairy tale idealisms. But with Maura, falling in love was easy. Every single thing she did, even things that irritated the Detective, multiplied the already overflowing, superfluous amount of love that quietly and unobtrusively simmered away inside Jane.

But she was scared. Terrified. This meant throwing all caution to the wind and attempting to forge a relationship in the midst of all this uncertainty, this chaos they call their lives. This meant jeopardising the friendship she cherished so much. This meant giving herself over to Maura completely, because she knew the Doctor would not accept anything less. But she had to do this. If it took her until her dying day she would do this. For Maura.

Anything for Maura, and only Maura.

Speaking of, Jane was enjoying the comfort of having said woman's body entwined with her own. She wasn't the greatest fan of cuddling or spooning or whatever they called it, but she liked it a helluva lot when it was Maura, and often initiated the act herself.

"Jane, perhaps you could remove your rather pointed patella from my abdomen, as it is currently making breathing somewhat difficult." Maura's slightly muffled voice prompted an immediate reaction in the Detective, who had been comfortably resting against the Doctor without realising her knee had become wedged between them.

"Shit… Sorry Maura," she said quietly, withdrawing almost completely from the embrace she had previously been wrapped up in. The Doctor released a grunt of indignation and soon, soft, skilled hands were upon her, drawing two different, but undeniably well matched bodies back together in an altogether more suitable position. "I'm all hard angles aren't I?" Jane whispered, amusement making itself noted in her light tone as she watched Maura trying and failing to find a spot on her chest that wasn't injured or uncomfortable to rest her head.

Maura flicked her gaze up to her Detective and said, "You have an incredible body Jane, I really wish you wouldn't say such derogatory things about yourself," before finally deciding on a spot just beneath Jane's chin. It was just as well. Jane would have hated the Doctor to see the flush that crept up the sides of her neck, across her cheeks and right up to the tips of her ears at hearing such a sincere compliment coming from Maura. Jane cautiously brought her hand up to Maura's back and began rubbing large, slow, soothing circles against her, revelling in the heat emanating from the skin hidden beneath the thick material. Maura emitted a content sigh and sagged against the Detective. She hadn't realised she had been bracing herself to leap off her until the moment that scarred hand started moving against her. Now, all she wanted was to melt into the warm body beneath her. And never leave this bed.

That would be nice. It would be more than nice; it would be perfect.

"Maura?" Jane murmured, feeling the Doctor move her head, indicating she should go on, "I'm sorry for running out on you," she said, all in one breath, lest she lose whatever courage remained. Maura used the tip of her index finger to draw random patterns on the tanned skin of Jane's forearm, formulating a response.

"I forgive you Jane, I understand why you did it…" there was a pause. Maura could feel the pressure building in the Detective's chest. The taller woman was holding her breath, preparing for Maura's wrath. "However, if you do such a thing again… I might be forced to use other tactics against you." Jane released the breath she had been holding in a hoarse chuckle that, unbeknownst to her, sent a shiver down Maura's spine.

"Oh you will huh?" She enquired, voice sparkling with intrigue and amusement. Maura pulled back just enough to look into Jane's eyes, and she nodded slowly.

"I'm sure I would be able to subdue you by… Oh maybe handcuffing you to my bed and playing my favourite documentary series. On loop." Jane's eyes widened dramatically and she clutched her heart, feigning terror. Maura grinned at the Detective's familiar antics, feeling wholly reassured that despite her ordeal, her sense of humour was unscathed. For that, she was eternally grateful, for Jane wouldn't be Jane without her own unique brand of sarcastic jibes and relentless teasing.

"Oh god no…" Jane mock-fainted against her pillow and Maura barked out a laugh, pressing a chaste kiss to the slightly parted lips that were practically demanding some sort of contact. "What documentary series?" Jane asked, peeping up at the Doctor through one eye. The other stayed closed in defence of the horror.

Maura wiggled her eyebrows, smiling, _"A Study of Our Endangered Brethren; The Tortoise." _Jane popped both eyes open, gazing at Maura with her best 'really' expression twisting her features comically.

"Are you kidding me?" The Detective smirked, "A whole documentary dedicated to turtles? Really?" Maura looked quite offended by Jane's insinuation that tortoises were not interesting enough to warrant an entire series dedicated to their species, and as she opened her mouth to defend her treasured pet Jane slammed her hand against the Doctor's mouth. Maura's tongue darted out without a moment's hesitation and she licked the Detective's palm from top to bottom, eliciting a squeal from her normally brave and reserved friend.

"Ewwww!" Jane whined, wiping her hand theatrically on Maura's back, resulting in another brilliant chuckle to break free of the Doctor who hadn't laughed so much in weeks. It felt good, it felt refreshing, it felt… Like coming home, to be lying here with the woman she loved, engaging in the natural banter they shared like a second skin, cocooned in their own little world.

Jane noticed the change in Maura's expression and instantly grew more serious. She brought her scarred hand to the image of perfection before her and gently rubbed her thumb over Maura's defined cheek bone.

"I love you," Jane said quietly. Perhaps she should have wrapped those three words inside a more sophisticated, grand sentence, but she knew it was enough just to say them with the honesty and sincerity Maura valued and craved. Sensing that Maura needed something else, something that would reassure her that Jane was prepared to embark on this journey with her, the Detective hesitantly took hold of Maura's hand. Upon seeing the confused expression on the Doctor's face, she shook her head and Maura understood she was to remain silent for now. Jane gently eased the small hand inside hers under her shirt, simultaneously fearing the intrusion and loving the feeling of Maura's hand against her skin. "You feel that?" Jane rasped, knowing from the positioning of their joined hands that they were directly above an area of scar tissue. Maura nodded, biting her lip.

"He used a lighter there, like he did on my feet." Jane moved their hands to one side. This area was swaddled in bandages. "That's where they opened me up to stop the internal bleeding." Upwards towards her chest. "Knife. He used to drag it across my skin without cutting me for a while before he would finally use it. He liked the anticipation." Down again, nearer to the Detective's back, which was covered with tape and padding. "Whip. He loved the whip." Jane's voice broke, but she pressed on, needing to share this with Maura before she lost her nerve. The Doctor, to her credit, was managing to maintain her composure for the most part. The only indication of the horror roiling inside her was her quickened breathing and the tears pooling in her eyes. Jane moved their hands down to her legs. "He would kick me so hard there that I could hear his boot crunching against me." Up again, towards her face, "He threatened to cut me, from my ear right down to my chin. But he never got around to that." Down to her shoulder. "In movies, the hero gets shot and can keep on fighting. He can get shot three times and stay on his feet. In real life, getting shot, even here, can take months to heal. Sometimes, it never heals. I knew a guy who got shot in the thigh and he still walks with a cane."

Maura was openly crying now. Unable to prevent the tears from dripping down her face, she just let them come.

"He would make me pray with him. He would ask me if I thought anyone would come and save me, and then he would make me pray with him that they would. He liked to mock me. He asked me if I thought what I feel for you is a sin and whether he would see me in hell…" Jane paused, searching the Doctor's face. She wasn't sure if she should go on. There were things she would never tell Maura, knowledge she could never impart upon the Doctor. Some things were best left unsaid, some things, some horrible, terrible things, should never be voiced. But Jane knew this had to be done. It was as though she was purging all of these unclean, vile actions into their intimate embrace, where Maura would replace it with something better.

"Jane… I led him to you. He would never have known of you if it weren't for me…" Maura choked out, finally voicing her deepest, darkest concern. She felt responsible for what happened. Jane pulled the Doctor to her, wrapping her arms around the woman's small frame, ignoring the pain erupting all over her body, gritting her teeth against it.

"Maura, don't. It only made sense to him. This has nothing to do with you, nothing." Jane voice was so strong, stronger than Maura had heard it in weeks that she found herself believing, if only in that moment. "You saved me. You saved me…" Jane's faltering voice was smothered by a demanding kiss. Maura's lips and tongue and teeth laid claim to Jane's mouth and she let her have full control.

Because she trusted Maura explicitly. She always had done.


	26. A Work In Progress

"Ma, with all joking aside, you've been cooking since nine o'clock this morning. Surely something has to be ready?" Jane leaned across the counter, peering at her Mother imploringly as she eyed the dishes simmering away longingly. Angela Rizzoli turned her head, giving her daughter the glare she had honed to perfection over the many years of dealing with three headstrong, unruly children. Although, this particular glare wasn't particularly vicious, in fact, the older woman's eyes were soft with love and good humour. She was just so completely and overwhelmingly _glad _that her Janie was even here to pester her for something to eat.

In the past, whenever her eldest child got hurt on the job, she would always make it her personal mission to take care of her, make sure she was eating and sleeping properly. Yes, Jane would fight her tooth and nail and threaten her with grievous bodily harm, but truly she didn't have any other choice but allow her to help. Now, well... Now she had Maura. And this time was different anyway. This wasn't just a few bruises, a busted up face or a cracked rib. This was so much more serious. That was why she was grateful that Jane had been willing to allow her in to cook for them all today. A Rizzoli family dinner, something that hadn't occurred for weeks. It hadn't felt right without Jane there so Angela had decided to call it off until she was better. Or at least willing to put up with them all for a few hours.

Today was that day. And she'd be damned if it was anything less than perfect. Or at least as perfect as anything that entailed a house full of Rizzoli's, two cops and a Doctor could ever be.

"Ma!" Jane snapped her fingers impatiently under her mother's nose, drawing her attention back to the desperate young woman currently dying of starvation in front of her.

"Jane! Leave your Mother in peace!" Maura scolded, popping back up from the kneeling position she had adapted to hunt for suitable bottles of wine for tonight's dinner. The Detective pouted at her friend, scooting back on the stool, only wincing slightly at a twinge in her shoulder. Maura noticed immediately and closed the gap between them, rubbing her hand gently against her taller woman's back. Jane smiled weakly, eyes drinking in the beautiful image before her. After her cowardly attempt at leaving behind the woman she loved last week, they had been getting along a lot better. The air had been cleared so to speak, and they each felt comfortable enough to discuss the current issues at hand as opposed to bottling up their emotions like they had become so accustomed to doing in the past.

Angela watched their interactions with a soft smile on her face. Never before had she seen her daughter look at someone with such unadulterated admiration and love in her eyes. It was only recently she had started to notice the shift in their relationship. At first, she hadn't been sure of her suspicions. Jane was a fiercely private woman and Maura… Well she supposed Maura might have told her had she been pressed into doing so. But she hadn't wanted to force the Doctor's hand in case she wasn't ready to admit to her feelings. In fact, Angela herself had been wary of her potential discovery and its possible ramifications. She knew that if her two girls got together there would be complications. She wouldn't have the big Catholic wedding she had always dreamed of for her only daughter. They would both face every possible prejudice and stereotype in their professional fields and perhaps at the hands of the press. There might be problems related to the fact they were colleagues. Hell, maybe they would end up ruining their friendship all for the sake of wanting more.

Soon enough, it became evident to Angela that none of that really mattered. So what if she had to change her way of thinking to accommodate their lifestyle? That was her problem, not theirs. So what if other people judged them, so what if their colleagues made snide comments, so what if they couldn't get married in the church she herself did? Look at the way her marriage turned out. It was hardly the best example of a _'straight marriage.'_

All that mattered was that her daughter, and the woman she had grown to see as her daughter, was happy. And judging by the goofy, lovesick grins currently stretching each woman's features, the matriarch figured that yes, they bloody well were happy.

And that was good enough for her. It was all she had ever wanted for Jane.

"Fifteen minutes Jane, I promise you! Now stop bothering me so I can finish this!" Angela said loudly, trying to disguise the waver in her voice brought on by her thoughts. She ignored the inquisitive stares being directed her way and busied herself with stirring the sauce bubbling merrily away in the pot nearest her hand.

Maura raised her eyebrows at Jane, who was watching her Mother through narrowed, suspicious eyes. The Doctor then squeezed Jane's arm, indicating she should let it lie.

"Okay Angela, I'll just finish setting the table," Maura said quietly. She thought she might just know what had gotten her Mother figure so worked up, but she decided to keep it to herself. At least for now. She had informed Jane of her Mother's words to her when she had still been missing, but neither of them had taken the discussion much further. It all felt too new to even consider telling anyone else. Even family members like Angela who had already apparently reached their own conclusions.

Just as Maura set the last plate on the table the front door practically rattled in the frame as a large hand rapped its knuckles against it and simultaneously blasted the bell. Jane rolled her eyes but grinned to herself at the sight of her new lover's face lighting up, an almost giddy looking smile breaking onto her face.

"It's open! Come in!" Maura called out. She had taken less than two steps before the door burst open and in tumbled the two Rizzoli boys, Detectives Frost and Korsak and an excitable Jo, whom Korsak had been taking care of whilst Jane recovered. Jane watched, slightly overwhelmed, as Maura was enveloped in rough, well meaning hugs by her younger brothers and then her former and current partner. She had never known them to be quite so touchy, but she couldn't hide the fact it touched her to see them providing such support. The next thing the Detective knew there was a small ball of fur on her lap and licking every available inch of skin between happy yips and barks.

"Easy girl, easy! Your Mom's here… Calm it!" Jane chuckled as her little dog bounced up and down; attacking the master she had clearly missed so much. Eventually, Frankie grabbed the dog and hoisted her under his arm, where she struggled excitedly, before bending down to plant a kiss to his older sister's cheek and provide a gentle, one armed hug. Jane returned his embrace enthusiastically, genuinely delighted to see him under better circumstances.

"Janie!" Tommy bellowed, picking his way through the small crowd of family and friends that seemed like an army due to the sheer volume and intensity of their shared presence. The youngest of the Rizzoli's also hugged Jane, this time for far longer than he had done so before. When he pulled back, he smiled widely at the sight of his sibling with tears in her eyes. She growled quietly and punched his arm, shoving him aside impatiently to prevent herself from losing her composure completely. Tommy squeezed the Detective's hand and then sauntered over to the kitchen. Jane laughed as she watched her Mother snap a towel against his prying hand.

"How's she doing?" Korsak asked Maura softly as Frost headed over to chat with his partner. The Doctor cocked her head to one side, looking on as Jane clapped Frost on the back and kicked out a chair for him. She could recognize the pain in Jane's expressive chocolate brown eyes, the way she was leaning slightly to one side in an effort to alleviate the uncomfortable sensations from the wound in her abdomen, the hitch in her raspy voice… But she could also see the pure joy on Jane's face at seeing her family together for the first time in who knows how long. Yes, it would tire her and before dinner was through someone was likely to irritate her, but right now Maura was sure Jane would gladly go through everything all over again just to have her family around her. And that was a miracle in itself. Maura flashed the older Detective a wide grin which took him by surprise. He found himself smiling back, "She's doing much better Vince. Much better." The good Doctor beamed before leading everyone to the table and retreating into the kitchen to help Angela finish up dinner.

Jane was the first to notice Frankie's uncomfortable fidgeting when dinner was nearing its completion. She laced her fingers together under her chin and turned the famous laser gaze on him, which only amplified his squirming.

"Spit it out Frankie," She eventually said, losing patience. Her brother shot a pained glance at Detective Frost and then another at Korsak, but they steadfastly kept their attention elsewhere. Finally, the young Officer sighed deeply and turned to Maura, who was daintily dabbing a napkin against her lips, removing imaginary crumbs.

"I... I uhm, don't really know how to say this but..." Frankie cleared his throat and shot a quick look at his Mother, who raised her eyebrows encouragingly. "You know you took that gun? Well I'm really sorry but you're going to be subject to an investigation because uh... It's an offence and..."

He was interrupted with the sound of a hand slamming down hard against the table, sending cutlery rattling and plates clattering.

"WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Jane roared. Her mother prodded her arm, a suitably horrified expression on her face, "Language Jane!" She barked indignantly.

"She saved my life with that gun!" The Detective seethed.

Frankie held up his hands in surrender, "I know! They know that too!" He turned back to Maura, who now had her napkin pressed tightly against her lips and was yet to speak. "They'll probably just give you a slap on the wrist or maybe a written warning..."

"This is absolutely fucking ridiculous!" Jane continued to fume, unaware of the fact Maura was grinning behind her hand, trying her hardest not to laugh. "The woman saves my life from the psycho and she ends up being investigated?! What a load of bureaucratic bullshit!" Jane trailed off into silence when she caught sight of Maura's quaking shoulders, mistaking it for sobs and reaching out to console her. The Doctor quickly lowered her hand and burst into laughter. The other people situated at the table shared wide eyed, shocked glances, wondering what the hell had gotten into their friend.

"I stole someone's gun!" Maura managed to wheeze out through the gale of laughter erupting from her throat. "I stole a police officer's gun!" She squealed, rocking back and forwards in her chair, cheeks pink with mirth. A slow grin worked its way onto Frost's face before he too joined in Maura's amusement, closely followed by Tommy and Korsak. Frankie and Angela smirked at each other, realising how absurd the entire situation was. Even Jo released an appreciative yip or two.

Jane eventually shrugged her shoulders, grinning ruefully, "Maybe we should get ya a badge to go with that gun Maur," she said, chuckling. The Doctor smirked at her, dabbing at her teary eyes.

"I don't think I'm quite at your standard yet Detective. But everything's a working progress, isn't it?" She said, eyes sparkling. Her question was meant for Jane, who smiled tenderly at her and nodded.

"It sure is Doc." Jane replied quietly, loving the way Maura's smile was slightly different when directed solely at her. "It sure is," she repeated under her breath as Angela jumped to her feet and everyone began gathering up the dishes, ready for dessert until it was just Jane and Maura left smiling at each other, soaking up the day's warmth in a shared moment of reflective silence.


	27. War Wounds and Widows

It's curious, isn't it? How we never seem to lose who we truly are. We spend our entire lives walking our own well mapped thin blue line and sometimes, we scarcely notice when we stray from the path. Perhaps we don't go too far, one glance over our shoulder and we can make out the line behind us. Two steps back and we are safely on point. However, what about those times we get so caught up in our lives, be that in the thrill of the chase, wrapped inside the lover's arms we know is no good for us, or maybe even in the eternal struggle we fight through alone every single day? What happens when we turn around and the line is so far off in the distance that even as you run towards it, desperate and reaching with hands that grasp at thin air, it simply fades away? What is the proper course of action when the line disappears and we are left with nothing but our diminishing self? No compasses, no map and no well meaning directions from a passing stranger can ever bring us back.

That task belongs only to the owner of the thin blue line.

It is their responsibility to find it again, to trek through the barren wilderness for days, weeks, months and maybe even years if need be. It is their choice. To find the line and walk it once again, to tread more carefully in future, to beware of the potential dangers with a clear head and heart. Or instead, remain lost forever. To wallow in a life of regrets and poor attempts at redemption, to lament for a past life and pine for the future you can have had.

This choice belongs to one Jane Rizzoli. And she was yet to make her final decision. The casting vote, if you will, still waits with the final throw of the dice.

Detective Rizzoli's occupation wasn't so much a job, but a calling. Sure, it put money in the bank, food on the table and a roof over her head, but if she were to be entirely honest with herself, she knew she could turn her hand to many other things. If she so desired she could leave the force and do… Well, basically whatever the hell she wanted. She might not have degrees and diplomas to put up on her walls but she had the attitude, the determination and enough brain cells to perform well in another working environment. Jane knew all of this, she knew it and she accepted it and she swept it aside along with the all the other things she had side stepped and avoided her entire life.

The job wasn't so much her livelihood, but her very life.

If Jane Rizzoli wasn't a cop, then what was she? Not very much when you came right down to it. She wasn't educated and beautiful like Doctor Maura Isles. She didn't have the effortless charm and sophistication that many other women her age possessed and exuded like an expensive perfume into the air surrounding their formidable presence. But she knew a good, solid day's work. Jane knew how to give her absolute all to whatever goal she set her mind on.

Only problem was, she knew none of these jobs would ever be right for her. She knew this as well as she knew the fact that no other person would ever be as right for her as Maura Isles.

Jane couldn't tell if she was just a glutton for punishment. Or if there was something wrong way down deep inside her that kept her coming back with her gun and badge strapped to her hip even when it was clear that the world and the scum that inhabited it, as well as the good guys who fight alongside her, were saying _'no,'_ and yet her heart was telling her _'yes.'_

But she had reached a crossroads on her winding path back to her own personal version of the fine, thin blue line, even if she did not realise at that moment. She wanted return to work, more than anything besides being with Maura.

The question was; could she handle it?

What if she had to come face to face with a victim who had suffered something similar to what she herself had? What if she had to venture, alone, into some dark place in search of a perpetrator and found that she simply couldn't? That she was frozen, stasis in the darkness. And, in conclusion, what if she was now unfit to perform in the field? There was no way she could ever sit behind a desk for the rest of her career, polishing her fucking badge and twiddling her thumbs whilst her colleagues were out doing what she classified as _'real police work.'_ Hell would freeze over before Jane Rizzoli resigned herself to being a damn desk jockey.

She had gotten that old, familiar itch the day before yesterday. The itch that made her want to surround herself with case files and wallow in them, flicking through pages and analyzing scrawling notes and crime scene pictures until her eyes burned. The itch that made her want to be out there again, questioning witnesses and gathering information.

'_All to make sure,'_ Jane thought, rubbing at the sides of her nose in an effort to ease the tension gathering in her head, _'that this case is airtight, fool proof and locked up tighter than a nun's vagina.'_

Jane chuckled to herself, imagining Maura's face had she voiced that particular thought aloud, and picked up the next file close to hand. Her face remained impassive as she allowed her eyes to glide once, twice, three times over the official crime scene photos of her prison, drinking in the depravity, the sickening image forever captured by a camera lens. Her time spent there had been immortalized through sheer necessity. Evidence was of utmost importance, considering her friends and colleagues had bent the rules on more than one occasion during their investigation. Not that she could blame them for that. If it had been Maura she would have moved mountains and broken every goddamn law in the book just to find her.

The Detective was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't hear the lock clicking behind her or the door opening and a certain Medical Examiner step inside. Maura instinctively sought out Jane as soon as she was beyond the threshold, her gaze roving around the room until they found her girlfriend. She was not pleased by the sight before her. Jane was sitting on the couch, empty cups and bottles on the coffee table in front of her and she was surrounded by files and pictures. The Doctor's stomach lurched when she recognized them as being the papers pertaining to Jane's own looming court case. How could she possibly sit there and look at those images without so much as batting an eyelid…?

"Jane…" She said quietly, trying not to startle the woman who was currently running the tip of one long finger along the top of one particular picture. Maura caught sight of it before Jane jumped slightly and shoved it back inside the file and out of view. It was of the room Jefferson used to torture his victims and leave horrendous wounds forever etched onto their skin. The table, the equipment dangling from the walls, the blood that had seeped its way into every surface and would never fully dissipate. Maura snatched in a deep breath before Jane turned to look at her, guilt etched onto her rather sharp features which were yet to fill out fully, even with her Mother's amazing cooking being sent through in little parcels and baskets on the days Jane didn't feel up to facing the overwhelming presence of the older Rizzoli.

"Hey Maura, didn't hear you come in," Jane said, rubbing at the back of her neck, cheeks coloring slightly when she felt Maura's heated gaze on her, refusing to leave even under the pointed glare she sent her way. The Doctor shrugged off her jacket and folded it neatly over one arm, lips pursed in a thin line as she debated over her choice of words for exactly what she wanted to say next. Jane flicked her dark eyes up to her girlfriend and then rolled them towards the heavens, "Oh spit it out Maura," she said moodily, getting to her feet and gathering up the empty beer bottles and coffee cups littering the table. She genuinely had every intention of clearing up before Maura got home, but she was so wrapped up in the papers that she scarcely noticed time slipping by. Jane enjoyed the feeling of involvement again. Being sidelined never did sit well with Jane Rizzoli.

"Well Jane, I just don't think it is particularly healthy for you to be perusing your own crime scene pictures like they are nothing more than holiday snapshots." Maura said, the words coming out clipped and tight with anger. She looked on as Jane dropped the bottles into the recycling bin one by one. Perhaps the sound of them clattering around mollified her rage somewhat. The Detective turned around, her face a mask of barely withheld fury. Jane held her hands aloft, baring her still-scarred and red wrists to the Doctor.

"So arrest me! Slap the cuffs on me Officer! Send me down for I have sinned!" Jane sneered, pushing past her girlfriend without so much as a backwards glance and returning to the couch, where she began organizing her files into some semblance of order. The Doctor bristled, standing stationary in her kitchen, rage and disbelief coursing through her, building and building into a deafening crescendo.

Maura took a shaky step forwards. And then another. And another and another until she was directly in front of Jane. She stood there, fists clenched by her side, defiance simultaneously sharpening and highlighting her more delicate features.

"How dare you speak to me like that," she said in a low, dangerous tone, drawing herself up to her full height until she was level with Jane in her heels. The Detective and the Doctor glared into one another's faces, each body stiffened with rage and… Desire. Oh yes, there was desire coursing a fire through their veins.

There was another fine line between anger and passion, and they were walking it at that precise moment, ready and willing to fall down and succumb on either side.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, you don't have to deal with this shit every day, you don't have to face the bad guys up close and personal. You get the goods when they're all ready to be cut up like a slab of beef on your table," Jane said with a sneer, "It's clinical, sterile. How could you understand?"

Maura stifled what would have been a growl as she pressed down the urge to slap her girlfriend right across her self satisfied smirk. She had no idea where this kind of primal urge was coming from, but she wasn't about to back down now.

"Excuse me?" Maura barked out her disbelief, her normally warm and soft hazel eyes darkening, "Are you insinuating that because I don't actively participate in the arrest of suspects, just because I am not the one _'slapping a set of cuffs on them,'_" Maura's voice twisted into a vague impression of Jane's deeper drawl, "Means that I am immune to the effect of seeing some Mother's son on my table?!" Maura bit her tongue forcefully, tasting the unique tang of blood as it filled her mouth, "It doesn't mean I don't lie in bed and think about what kind of life that person might have led if only I had done more! And seeing you, sitting there with those…" Maura gestured blindly with one finger, "Those horrid pictures, it just makes me feel like I'm reliving it over and over! It's like you can't wait to get back out there and put yourself in danger again! And I can't stand the thought of what it must be doing to you…" The flushed Doctor blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and glared at Jane. She had one final thing to say to the now silent Detective.

"And I swear to god Jane if you make me a widow one day I will dig you up myself just to kill you again!"

Jane's eyebrows started on a steady crawl up her forehead and Maura's cheeks went from slightly flushed an interesting shade of purple.

"Doctor Isles, did you just propose to me?" Jane drawled heavily, causing Maura to squirm even more.

"Oh shut up Jane." Maura snapped, although she was smiling slightly. Jane heaved out a sigh and offered her girlfriend an apologetic grimace,

"You know I didn't mean any of that..." she said quietly, reaching out and threading a lock of Maura's perfect, golden hair through her fingers.

The Doctor prodded her girlfriend's shoulder, "I know you didn't, but still... You think perhaps you could make more of an effort to not attack my professional capabilities or my emotional..." Jane briskly pressed her lips to the still moving set of her Doctor, cutting her off. "I'll try," she grinned, sloppily kissing the tip of Maura's nose. The Medical Examiner bristled again at being interrupted but soon, she thought of something far more interesting she could be doing with her frustration. A predatory smile stretched her lips wide as she stepped into Jane's personal space, their bodies a hairsbreadth apart.

She felt rather than heard Jane's breath catching in her throat as she gently toyed with the hem of the frayed tank top the Detective was wearing beneath an old jumper.

"I'm sure I can think of a few ways to... Further our mutual apologies." Maura said with an indulgent smile.

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**A/N:** Thanks once again for the reviews, follows and favourites! And cheers for sticking with this!


	28. Burning Up

"Maura, I love you. I love you, you know that and I know that. But... I don't want to be... Like this," Jane nodded her head at the still healing wound in her shoulder and the numerous newly forming scars on her body. "For our first time." She shrugged gently, "You deserve to have me at my best. Hell, I probably don't even deserve you even at my best. But you definitely deserve to have me, _all _of me, at a point where I'm able to... Able to give you exactly what you want. Need." The Detective ducked her head, blushing faintly, unused to being so open with her thoughts.

She felt a gentle finger making contact with the underside of her chin, pushing upwards until her eyes met the slightly glazed set of the Doctor. Jane blinked; startled by the intensity she found swirling inside those hazel eyes. "Haven't you realised by now that _you _are all I need Jane?" Maura asked quietly, her voice breaking just a little bit on the last word, her direct address to the woman she loved. "And I don't want to push you. Far from it. Our first time could be right now or a year from now. We've waited a long time, and I'm willing to wait as long as you need me to."

Jane swallowed thickly, throat working against the desire to just start bawling.

Detective Rizzoli did not ball with emotion.

Christ, she'd done enough of that shitty, teenage girl emotional crap when Casey was still around. She'd been so fucking desperate to make it work with him, because he was her shield. Having Casey in her life meant she could simultaneously ignore her feelings for Maura, not that she even realised that was what she was doing at the time. Back then, Casey had just been there, and he'd been good for her, up until a point. It soon dawned on her that she was losing herself to a fantasy, becoming someone she really didn't care for. She was turning into those women she used to scoff at. The ones who put their lives on hold for a man and remained and their beck and call. The ones that, at the mere mention of their lover's name suddenly regressed twenty years in mental capability. She wised up to what she was doing eventually, with a little push from Frankie.

She was obsessed with something she had talked herself into wanting. Jane Rizzoli wasn't a picket fence and 2.5 kids kinda gal, as much as everyone else might want her to be.

In fact, turns out she was a raging lesbian. Go figure.

"I don't wanna fuck it up," She mumbled after a moment, her voice barely rising above a whisper. Maura took that as her cue to inch closer, which did not help the internal battle waging within Jane. The two sides fighting were named _'Just have sex with her already,'_ and _'Keep it in your pants Rizzoli.' _Currently, it was a stalemate. But she was moving closer to the former with every passing second.

"You don't want to what, Jane? I couldn't quite hear you…" Maura trailed off, tipping her head to one side in that manner she has done since the first time they met. The way that makes Jane's stomach flip over in an irritatingly painful somersault that would often leave her breathless and lightheaded on the bad days. The good days were the days she managed to push her feelings aside. The bad days were the days they almost consumed her alive. Before that bastard kidnapped her, there had been more bad days than good.

Jane frowned impatiently, "I said I don't want to fuck it up Maura." She stated clearly, enunciating each syllable. She wiggled her eyebrows, inviting Maura to explain all the reasons why she shouldn't concern herself with that, but her girlfriend remained silent, just staring up at her. The Detective huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes before elaborating, "I have almost no experience here Maura, I mean… Okay, uh…"

Jane sighed, _'Why the fuck was this so difficult?' _she thought to herself ruefully.

"I'll just be honest with you. I slept with one woman. Just one, I was drunk, she was even drunker and it just kinda happened…" Jane stopped, bit her lower lip as though remembering something painful, "It wasn't exactly… It wasn't…" Another pained sigh, "It wasn't great." She admitted tersely.

Maura reached up and ran her hand soothingly down Jane's arm, stopping to catch the brunette's fingers with her own, running a thumb over the protruding scar that had become so familiar to her.

"And I dunno Maura; I don't want to disappoint you. I'm still all banged up and shit, and as I said I've only done it once before and I can barely even remember it, and judging by what I do remember… My performance wasn't… Satisfactory, to say the least." Jane fumbled with the frayed edge of the Boston Police Department sweater she had thrown on earlier and stared resolutely at the floor. No way could she meet Maura's laser beam eyes after what she just said. "What if I can't do it right?" she added softly, feelings her cheeks heat up again.

Maura leaned forwards and pressed her lips to Jane's, exerting only the tiniest bit of pressure, taking her time exploring the mouth that she could now claim as hers. The Doctor captured the bottom lip and sucked gently, hearing a soft moan spill from Jane's mouth into hers only resulted in increasing the tempo of her attack.

She eventually pulled away and said, "Jane, I have my reservations too." Maura inhaled deeply, feeling Jane's arms slide around her waist and guide her closer. "Yes, my sexual experience with women might outweigh that which you possess, but every lover is different. _You_ are different. Before, it was a matter of sexual gratification. A, what do you call it, quick _'hump and dump?'_" Maura said with an innocent smirk, trying to play down her nerves and reveling in the bark of shocked laughter Jane emitted. She loved to make the Detective laugh. It was a strong sound that filled her completely. "I no more wish to disappoint you than you wish to let me down, as unlikely as that is. It is our prerogative to find out what we like, what we can do to please one another. That will take time, time I am more than willing to give," Maura said with an exaggerated wink, prompting a patented eye roll from Jane, "I want to make you feel safe, and loved, and whole. With me. I want to ruin you for anyone else. I want us to reach the stage where we feel entirely comfortable with one another, all reservations and fears long gone."

Jane found she could probably listen to the Doctor talk this way, all animated and bright eyed, for the rest of her days.

"I want us to be together Jane. As best friends, as lovers and as partners in every sense of the word. And for you, I am willing to wait as long as is necessary. Because…" Jane smiled gently, dropping a gentle kiss to her girlfriend's lips to hide the tears beading on her long lashes.

"Because you love me and I'm the Italian stallion you're willing to wait for?" Jane grinned, eyelids fluttering, and Maura groaned theatrically, causing Jane to release that amazing laugh again.

The Detective sobered after a moment and whispered, "Maybe we should just get started on that whole… _'Being comfortable with one another' _thing." Hopeful eyes sprang up to meet hers, "We can decide how far we want to go as it comes…" Jane blinked, "Bad word choice," she admonished herself airily before continuing, "Because right now, I really want to kiss you, and not just here…" She tapped Maura's mouth with the fingers on her good hand, "Does that sound okay?"

Maura sighed happily, melting into Jane's embrace. But then she pouted, leaning back to look up at Jane, whose eyes were twinkling, "It sounds far better than okay. I'm afraid I can't seem to source a word accurate enough to convey exactly how I think it sounds…" Jane had to laugh, she sounded genuinely upset by the fact her vocabulary had failed her in this important moment.

Jane placed one hand gently on Maura's waist. And that's all. She couldn't seem to bring herself to do anything more at that moment. Her mind was focused entirely on the warmth emanating from the skin hidden beneath the Doctor's thin pencil skirt, the shifting muscles hidden from view, the strength any spectator might be shocked to discover the Doctor possessed. But most of all... It was Maura's eyes that held her captivated and lost, wandering blindly inside her own fractured thoughts.

She had never seen anything more stunning than Maura Isles' hazel eyes morphing into blackness, pupils dilated with want and desire. How could _she_, of lanky frame, average size breasts, plentiful scars and untamable tangled hair, possibly be the cause of this fierce passion that had arisen within her best friend? How could Jane Rizzoli, she with less fashion sense than your average high school nerd, she with mismatched outfits and clashing underwear and an almost complete aversion to make up, possibly elicit this kind of primal, feral reaction from the most beautiful woman in all of Boston? Maybe even the world?

The woman who could have anyone she wanted had chosen her. The woman who had enough charm, wit and money to have anyone she so desired had chosen a lowly Detective. A Detective who had forgotten to brush her hair that morning, who had also spent the day drinking coffee and beer and probably had the worst breath in the history of mankind right about now... None of that seemed to bother the Doctor.

In fact, it spurred her on.

Jane, to her credit, finally snapped out of her daze. She emitted a sound close to a growl and lurched forwards, crashing her lips against Maura's, barely paying a scrap of attention to the burning in her shoulder and the protests coming from her ribs.

She wanted Maura. She wanted to kiss and touch and…Hell, _'lesbehonest'_ here, _**taste**_every single fucking inch of her gorgeous body.

And she wanted it right now.

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**A/N:** Sorry for the lack of updates for this story, writing smut makes me nervous! I feel like I'm going to mess it up in some way. But anyway, this chapter was just setting the scene really. I'll hopefully have the next one up in a day or so, and that will include some adult content, so be advised dear readers. Hope you enjoyed this update, and I shall strive to update more now that I seem to have beaten this mental block! Thank you very much for your continued support.


	29. Into The Fire

**A/N: **This chapter is definitely M rated as it depicts acts of a sexual nature. If that is not your cup of tea, milk and sugar then read no further. The rest of you, I hope you enjoy. And I apologize if it's not up to your expectations; this area really isn't exactly my strongest point. Review if you feel so inclined, criticism and suggestions always welcomed and taken onboard.

* * *

Maura quirked a smile at her partner as they stretched out side by side on her large, comfortable bed. She watched, amused, as Jane squirmed her way into a more comfortable position before sighing contentedly and crossing her long legs at the ankles, only wincing very slightly as a result of the movement. Jane turned her head and caught the Doctor staring at her with a faraway look in her eyes. Slowly, Maura dragged her gaze from the tips of Jane's toes right up to her eyes, which were narrowed at her. She blushed deeply at being caught staring, running a hand through her hair and blinking away from Jane, who chuckled throatily, "Like what ya see there Doc?" Jane drawled with a smirk, wiggling her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Maura rolled her eyes, "I think we have already established that yes, when I look at you I like what I see," she replied tersely.

Jane's smirk grew into a fully fledged Rizzoli-grin, her dimples showing. "I bet you say that to all the woman you lure into your bed." It was Maura's turn to smile graciously and tilt her head to one side, batting her lashes enticingly, "Only the sexy ones." Jane grumbled and reached out to slap her girlfriend on the arm, but Maura pulled back, her musical laugh filling Jane's ears and making her break into laughter too.

"This is supposed to be a serious moment Doctor Isles. We're meant to be seducing one another or something…" The Detective said, smoothing out her features and giving Maura her best stern look. The Doctor flopped back down beside her, sending blonde curls bouncing, and smiled widely, "I know. But don't you feel that this is very… natural? I feel like we've been doing this for years."

Jane chuckled, "We kinda have, if you think about it." She paused and gave that a moment's consideration, "Well not the seducing part, but the whole… Going to bed together, lying in here and just talking, laughing with each other, we've been doing _that _part for a long time." Maura thought for a moment, biting her lower lip as she recalled the numerous occasions she and Jane had found themselves in this exact moment. Without the seducing part.

"You're right, of course." Maura said with a nod, "I feel comfortable with you here. Perhaps that's why I don't necessary believe it's essential for us to be entirely serious. After all," Maura winked, "This is meant to be exciting. I think we've earned the right to be happy together, and for me, I don't need to hear you profess your love for me again and again, over romantic meals and bouquets of expensive roses." Jane's expression softened and she reached for the Doctor's hand, wrapping it tightly inside her own scarred one. Maura flashed a brilliant smile, her eyes spilling over with affection, "I can see exactly how much you love me every time you look at me, every time you do this…" Maura held their joined hands aloft as evidence, "Reveals how much you trust me." Maura's thumb worked its way over the scar marring Jane's slightly rougher skin, "And I know how I feel about you Jane. I don't possess any lingering doubts about my emotions. I spent far too long attempting to quantify them, and soon learned that it was entirely pointless even trying to do so."

Maura leaned forwards and Jane craned her neck, meeting her halfway in a soft, languid kiss that neither felt the need to rush. Lips and tongues traced intricate, intimate patterns that only they held the power and the authority to map before Maura pulled back, breathing the same air as her lover. "You defy all reasoning Jane Rizzoli. As I said before, you are deceptively complex, and often, I do not understand you." The Doctor's eyes twinkled, "Although it has been wonderful to try." Jane smiled gently and opened her arms, allowing Maura to rest her head on her shoulder as the Detective held her close, almost possessively.

Something inside Jane Rizzoli forced her to feel like she had to consistently remain on her guard. Defending herself against the potential consequences of revealing too many emotions, of showing vulnerability, of just letting go, had become commonplace for the distinguished Detective. She was one of the scarce few who had the privilege of witnessing Jane without her walls. And when the walls came crumbling down it was Maura's honour to assure her best friend that it was perfectly alright for her that to happen. Maura could see it right at this very moment. Inside Jane's eyes, there was a war going on. There was a war between her desire to trust Maura completely, to submit to the depth and intensity of the feelings she had bottled up and buried for so long, and her ingrained instinct to maintain that little bit of distance to prevent herself from the pain that could be a result of this venture.

Maura had been honest. She would wait as long as Jane needed her to wait. They had managed to overcome so much during the course of their relationship, and there was no way in hell she was about to let nerves and insecurities prevent them from moving forward.

But it soon grew evident that Jane had no attention of waiting. Since feeling the reassuring weight and warmth of her Doctor against her body, she had grown desperate to feel the heat of her skin directly against her own. She wanted to trace her fingers and tongue over every inch of the hidden flesh, mark Maura, show her how much she loved her without the need for words she could never seem to muster.

Jane used her good hand to push Maura away from her slightly, earning her a confused pout which she quickly kissed away, having no desire to see it there again in the foreseeable future. Jane bit the inside of her cheek nervously, hardly daring to remove her hand from the woman lying almost on top of her lest she disappear.

"I want to… Maura, I want to…" Jane managed to whisper before Maura dipped her head back down, capturing her traitorous lips. Lips that lacked the ability to convey the need growing within her, the way her stomach kept clenching painfully with every minute movement the Doctor made, the embers of the fire that had been burning for years upon years suddenly bursting fully into life.

Burning. Jane was burning up from the inside out. She was sure, as Maura moved her tongue, hot and wet, across her jaw line and down her neck, that she must be able to feel it. Maura must surely feel the way her skin felt too tight, stretched across her body as she arched into the gentle caresses, too tight and too hot and too constricting.

Her hands didn't know where to go, where to hang onto. Where was appropriate?_ 'Christ Rizzoli, you are utterly fucking clueless' _Would Maura mind if she wrapped her arms around her, or would that be too restrictive? Should she place them on her hips, or would that distract her? The woman in question bobbed her head up, eyes glinting, "Jane, I know when you're over thinking." She gently cupped the Detective's cheek and pressed a chaste, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

"You're one to talk!" Jane huffed; feeling Maura's warm breath slide over her face was almost too much, almost enough to make her lunge at her lover and begin to consume her. But that wasn't really an option right now. Her body ached with the desire to touch and be touched, but it also ached for an entirely different reason. Her bruised and fractured ribs hurt, her back hurt, her shoulder and legs and arms hurt. Everything hurt less when Maura was close, but still, the physical pain was inescapable, and it rendered her at her girlfriend's mercy. "Don't be like me then, Jane. We both have the capacity to feel. So just concentrate on feeling me."

And with that, Maura returned her attention to biting, nipping and sucking on the Detective's exposed neck, drawing tiny gasps and pants as she worked tirelessly, seeking out the areas that made Jane squirm. Areas that no-one else had ever felt an inkling to attempt to find.

Maura found a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of the brunette's jaw, causing her to moan loudly and buck her hips involuntarily. The friction generated by their clothing was a delicious agony. They served as barriers to the skin on skin contact both desired intensely, but for the moment provided enough friction to keep them sated. Jane threaded her fingers into Maura's hair and breathlessly pulled her up to urgently press their lips together. Maura was happy to respond to her lover's insistence, immediately parting her lips and allowing Jane to plunder the inviting warmth waiting inside. She moaned as Jane placed her lips around her tongue and suckled for a moment, gently biting down on the sensitive muscle. "Jesus…" Jane groaned, feeling Maura's thigh work its way between her legs and push forwards, causing her already soaked underwear to rub teasingly against where she desperately wanted Maura to be right about now.

"God almighty!" Jane gasped when Maura decided a particular area of her neck needed to be ground between her teeth in the sexiest way imaginable. Maura whispered something against her, causing her to growl, "What? What'd you say?" And then the Detective found herself lying there with her jaw hanging open when Maura looked up at her and, with a grin, said, "I said, _'Maura will suffice honey,'_" in a voice dripping with confidence and want.

The Doctor took that as an opportunity to extricate her limbs from Jane's embrace and pull her blouse over her head, swinging the upper half of her torso over the side of the bed and laying the garment flat on the carpet, hearing Jane grunt impatiently behind her only prompted her to slow her movements. "Fuck Maura, move your ass…" The Detective said shakily, using her good hand to casually draw the zipper on the back of Maura's tight skirt right down, exposing a set of sheer black underwear.

Well, Jane wouldn't really class _that_ as underwear. It gave the illusion of being underwear, but it really wasn't. There just wasn't enough material for it to be regarded as appropriate for the work place, of that she was sure.

Maura rolled onto her back and shimmied her way out of the skirt, enjoying the way Jane's tongue darted out to wet her lips as she watched. Jane set her jaw and struggled into a sitting position, beginning to tug off her sweatshirt and the thin tank top beneath.

But then she paused. _'Shit! Why the fuck didn't you put a bra on?!' _Jane slowly lowered her arms, hoping Maura hadn't noticed her starting to disrobe. Unfortunately, she felt a pair of hands land on her shoulders and then the Doctor's face loomed above her, looking down into her dark cocoon of hideous clothing from above. Jane let out a squeak of indignation as Maura tugged harder, causing the material to ride up her lean body. "Maura! Watch my shoulder! Wait a damn minute…!" Jane trailed off when the offending clothes were yanked mercilessly from her defensive frame and tossed aside; leaving her eye to eye with the most spectacular set of breasts she has ever seen in her entire lifetime on this planet they call earth.

"Oh Lord…" Jane mumbled, noticing Maura's dusky nipples were proudly erect and tantalizingly close to her mouth.

Maura ran her hands through the tangled mane of wild hair below her and fell back down onto her knees, frowning, "Jane, I would appreciate if you could perhaps try and curb your incessant references to any member of the holy trinity for the remainder… _Mmmph_," Jane cut her off by dragging her into another fierce embrace, crashing her lips hungrily against Maura's, swirling her tongue with that of the Doctor's and drawing a gasp of desire and surprise from her.

Jane palmed the soft, yet toned flesh of Maura's _gluteus maximus_, and then, deciding they had gone too far to turn back now, pushed her thumbs inside and urged the Doctor to tear it off the remainder of the distance. She was frustrated she couldn't just do it herself, but hey, she had limits. Maura glanced down at the last barrier between herself and Jane and was about to pass comment on her lover's choice of undergarments before deciding against it. If she felt comfortable wearing those boy shorts then she should damn well wear them if she pleased. Plus, Maura had to admit, she found them strangely attractive. Sexy even. Though she knew she was going to prefer the view without their interference.

Noting the worry creeping into Jane's eyes, Maura paused for a moment and travelled the short distance back up to her girlfriend's mouth, planting a soft kiss there and waiting for an explanation. Jane's gaze flickered from Maura's eyes to lips to breasts back up to her eyes again. "I wish I was able to… Participate more." She confessed carefully.

Maura smiled, "Jane, we have years, not just tonight. We have years for you to do whatever you wish to me and with me…" The Detective's heated core throbbed at the prospect on offer, "But…" Maura said, tracing an invisible pattern over Jane's chest, eyes widening as she watched her nipples hardening into points on perky breasts under her ministrations. "We can do this… Together." She said lightly, using the very tips of her fingers to remove Jane's soaked underwear and toss them unceremoniously to the floor, leaving them both equally open and exposed.

The Detective's immediate response was to begin to close her legs, but Maura stilled her movements and drew her hands closer to Jane's centre, ghosting her hands over the heated skin.

"Together?" It was more of a question now. And such a heavily loaded question required a response. Jane looked up into the eyes of her lover, almost as if she were seeing them for the very first time. Maura's face was open, completely open with trust and devotion. Jane felt her throat close as tears worked their way to the surface. She was horrified at the thought of breaking down in this way, after they had both said this didn't require weeping and wailing of the emotional kind.

But then she noticed the tears gathering in at the corners of Maura's expressive hazel eyes. The kind, loving smile on her lips. The way her hands were still tracing patterns, keeping them grounded.

And all Jane had to do was nod, giving her final consent.

Maura repositioned herself so that Jane had easier access to where she needed to be, and their lips met again. Hard this time. Passionate. Possessive. Needful.

Breaths escaped in sharp pants. Oxygen became something that was secondary to the sensations garnered through their exploratory kissing. Theirs was a battle that didn't require a conqueror. It was an evenly matched war of affection between the two women.

Wandering hands migrated down to exposed flesh. Surprised gasps tumbled down from parted lips upon discovering the amount of wetness that had gathered simply through being so close to one another, with hardly any stimulation whatsoever.

Jane locked eyes with Maura. Jane and Maura. Rizzoli and Isles. A team. A partnership. A friendship that had grown and blossomed and finally become something more. Something intense. Something precious.

And all the questions and reservations went up in a thin puff of smoke when two fingers plunged deep into a welcoming velvet warmth and liquid heat, resulting in the most drawn out, hoarse moan coming from the ever composed Doctor.

Jane felt Maura move inside of her, swirling her fingers, meeting the desperate, continuous thrusts. Their bodies were as in tune with one another as their minds, as their hearts.

They existed in this moment, in this union, as one. As one entity. All they could taste and smell and see and hear was the other.

That was all they needed. That was all they had ever wanted.

The edge came sooner than either had expected. Maura's teeth found a patch of skin and latched on as she came undone, the fire inside her building and burning as it reached a crescendo, causing her entire body to arch and grow taut as her muscles burned and the pleasure spread and continued for what seemed like hours. Jane tumbled over soon after, feeling her inner walls clamp down around the incredibly skilled fingers of her lover, as though attempting to keep here there indefinitely, trap her there with her as intimately as possible forever. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream before Maura placed hers over it, gently moving her lips over Jane's, stroking the beautiful Detective's sensitive spot to draw out her orgasm.

When they came back down to earth, breathing heavily, chests heaving against the other, bodies shining with the evidence of both their arousal and exertion… They just stared.

Two pairs of teary, burning eyes met and latched on and their love making continued in that charged moment.

Declarations of _'I love you' _weren't necessary.

They already knew.


	30. A Friendly Face

Maura glanced over at Jane as she quickly signed into her Skype account, noting the way the Detective was sitting. Her straight backed, fingers locked and head bowed posture was indicative of her current emotional state.

Jane was nervous.

The Doctor attempted to alleviate some of her lover's apprehension by gently placing her hand on Jane's thigh, moving it in slow, calming circles. "Jane, I promise you, Lieutenant Carson was helpful, considerate and ultimately, concerned for your safety." She paused before adding, "He helped Jane. He told us that Jefferson would have been involved in the investigation at some point, and he was right. After checking his phone records Frost found that he had called with an anonymous tip…" Jane winced very slightly at the thought of her captor pretending to be concerned for her life. "He was right about that. It may not have been of much use at the time, but it will be in court…" Maura bit her lip, concerned that this line of conversation might not be one Jane would be keen to pursue. Receiving no deterrence, she pressed on, "His profile of Jefferson was surprisingly accurate. He will prove invaluable when this eventually goes to trial. It will help convict him for the other murders, even though they were in separate states and therefore crossed jurisdictional lines."

Jane sighed softly, running a hand through the mane of hair she allowed Maura to tackle with a brush not half an hour ago, but only after another hour of pleading and blackmail. She looked up at the Doctor, half smiling, "I know Maura. It's just…" She shrugged in frustration, unable to accurately voice what she was feeling, "I dunno, maybe he doesn't want to hear from me. He's obviously a busy guy, what difference does it make to him whether I talk to him?"

The Doctor cocked her head to one side, considering Jane for a moment before she replied, "Jane, you know exactly why this is important. For both of you. He participated in the investigation of Jefferson's crimes for years, and you are the only one to survive. You are important to him. And I know you want to thank him, I know you do." Maura stopped, seeing the soft, loving expression on Jane's face seemed to render her speechless for the time being.

"You're right Maura. I would like to shake his hand, but seeing as that's impossible… I guess this'll have to do," Jane's grin lacked its usual Rizzoli charm, but it was still a grin nonetheless.

The screen burst into life and the familiar face of Lieutenant Ronald Carson appeared. The man could be hear cursing madly as he disappeared from view only to pop back up again, red faced and clutching a large _'get well soon'_ card which he held up for them to see like a sacrificial offering.

Jane and Maura shared an incredulous glance before bursting into laughter.

Carson looked aggrieved, "Hey! This darn thing cost me a small fortune!" He said with mock indignation, waving the monstrosity around, "I thought that since I didn't send one earlier, I'd just let you look upon my great taste in Hallmark cards from afar…"

"That, sir, is embarrassing." Jane said levelly, still smiling widely at the blonde haired officer. He pouted, letting the card flutter onto the desk in front of him, before he too broke into a toothy grin, "Lieutenant Ronald Carson, pleased to meet you."

"Detective Jane Rizzoli, same to you." Jane said, feeling Maura's hand slide over hers before their fingers were suddenly molded together in the warmest, most intimate way that she could ever imagine.

"And Doctor Isles…" Carson said, "Good to see you again."

Maura smiled, "And you Lieutenant. For the record," she shot Jane a pointed look, "I thought the card was a lovely gesture."

Carson and Jane released almost identical snorts of disbelief, "Hell no it wasn't. I just wanted to break the ice." He said lightly, picking up the card and giving it a distasteful look.

Jane shifted uncomfortably; unsure of the best way to vocally announce her gratitude to this man she had never even met in person, but who had contributed to their case from his own free will. "Lieutenant… I just wanted to say thank you, for getting in contact with my partner…"

Carson nodded, but held up his hand simultaneously, "Don't bother with gratitude Rizzoli. You beat the sonuvabitch; you survived all he had to throw at you. I didn't do jack shit compared to that." Maura felt herself beam internally with pride. Jane had survived, Jane won. Jefferson was going to jail for the rest of his miserable existence and she got to spend her life with Jane, making sure she was safe and loved and happy.

And maybe it was a bit early to be thinking about the future. Maybe it was presumptuous to assume that she and Jane would stand the test of time. But somehow, she just knew. She and Jane were meant to be together. It was as simple as that and she didn't care what anyone else had to say about that.

"All the same sir, your contribution will help nail him to the wall when we get him to court. I'm thankful for that. I'm also thankful for the fact you voluntarily came forward with information. A lot of others wouldn't have done that. So thank you, really." Jane broke off, her voice thick. Maura tightened her hold on the Detective's hand.

Carson tipped his head to one side as though contemplating whether what he was about to say next was going to land him in trouble. "Anytime Detective, and I mean that. You ever need something, I'm here."

Jane nodded resolutely, "Same goes for you."

"You know…" He swallowed, unsure of whether he had made the correct assumption, "I kinda thought that maybe there was something going on between you two…" Maura stiffened, but it was Jane who uttered a soft, low chuckle. "Oh? And how did you work that one out?" She enquired.

Carson visibly relaxed and shrugged, "Just… I did some research, saw some pictures, read some articles… Seemed like the two of you were awfully close for just being _'best friends.'_" He sounded amused; pleased by the fact he had been right about the two women. He also felt relieved. He felt relieved that Detective Rizzoli had someone like the Doctor looking after her and that this woman, who had suffered so much, and her lover, who seemed to have spent most of her life alone, now had someone to love and cherish them.

The fact that they both looked like two little cats that had just gotten a whole truckload of cream made him think that they were even happier about this development than he could possibly imagine.

* * *

**A/N:** Not a very long chapter, sorry about that. But we're about to venture into some more troubled times, so I hope you're still enjoying it. Thanks once again for reviews/follows/favourites, it is much appreciated. There's going to be probably around another ten or so chapters to this. I have them sketched out already so I shall update as quickly as I can.


	31. Dates, Daffodils and Denial

Having her own space was important for Jane Rizzoli. She knew she wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, and to be perfectly honest, there came a point not long after she turned eighteen where she knew that she would be able to look after herself. Living alone had never particularly bothered the Detective. That was, until Hoyt. After that ordeal, she took to pacing her empty apartment at night, flinching at everyday noises from outside and the usual natural creaks and bangs of the building. The night she turned to Maura marked a change in her life. After spending the night with Maura near her, she realised that she actually liked it.

She liked knowing that there was somewhere nearby. It was reassuring to wake up in the morning and know that she wasn't alone. Perhaps that was why she had ended up spending so much time at Maura's house even before she was taken by Jefferson. Steadily, she started to find herself there more often than not after a hard day at work or on weekends when neither of them felt like parting ways after a night of drinking their preferred alcoholic beverages and watching whatever movie one of them had chosen for that evening. Sure, the fact her Ma lived in the guesthouse was a contributing factor. In order to see her Ma she basically had to go through Maura first, but still, even she knew in the back of her mind that it was a little odd that their personal lives had merged so completely in this way.

And standing in the middle of her bedroom in an empty apartment, Jane once again realised that she had irrevocably grown far too used to having Maura around her. The fact that the silence and stillness, aside from the rhythmic thumping of Jo's tail against the carpet, was quietly at odds with what she had grown accustomed to was testimony to this change. Jane stood for a moment; her wardrobe doors spread wide open, granting her a clear view of the meager offerings stored inside. She glanced down at Jo, who seemed to be looking at her with a mix of pity and impatience. "You've probably got more fashion sense than I have buddy," Jane said morosely, bending down to give her treasured pet a quick belly rub. Jo licked her hand sympathetically before Jane returned her exasperated gaze to the items she had strewn across the bed.

She picked up a tailored blouse and crinkled her nose, "Too work-y," she muttered, tossing it aside as she grabbed a black, slim fitting dress. She regarded it impassively for a long moment, mentally calculating how much flesh the flimsy material would cover. With a shake of her head she commented, "Too revealing." Jane was mindful of the fact her still-healing body was the bearer of a number of extra scars, all of which she had deemed incredibly unsightly and decidedly not sexy.

And she wanted to feel sexy. She was going on a date with Doctor Maura Isles, the most beautiful woman she had even set eyes on. They were going on their first official date to _Albero's_, an Italian restaurant that Jane knew was expensive and up market enough to suit Maura's usual tastes, whilst still being within the realms of her own comfort zone. She knew the owner's son, Leonardo, from high school and had managed to stay on good terms with him since then. He constantly reminded her that if she ever needed to book something for a special occasion then he would be honored to organize something for her. That might have something to do with the fact that when Jane was still a beat cop, she had been in the vicinity when the call came through of a robbery in progress at the restaurant. She pretended not to hear the order from her older, more experienced partner and made the decision to go in anyway. Long story short, she caught the bastard as he was making a run for it and got the Albero's every cent of their money back.

She spent a month doing her partner's paperwork as well as her own, coupled with serving him coffee and lunches every day so he wouldn't report her. But it was worth it.

So before she had begun this ridiculous effort to find a suitable outfit, she called up Leo just to confirm the reservation she made a few days ago. He had been so eager and helpful and happy to hear from her that day that she was shocked to find herself getting a little choked up. Leo had asked about her recovery and she assured him she was making excellent progress. That was the truth, at least according to Maura and the psychiatrist she had been visiting the past week and a half under strict instructions from Cavanaugh. Leo promised to reserve one of their best tables and ensure that they would be taken care of the entire night.

That settled, Jane had attempted to focus her attention on the outfit issue. That was proving to be more challenging than she could have imagined. Uttering a curse under her breath, Jane held a pair of heels up to Jo for inspection. She cocked her head, almost as if she were listening to her opinion before nodding in mock agreement, "Well said. I wouldn't be able to relax in these things." She tossed them unceremoniously onto the floor. Her eyes landed on the final few items of clothing she was yet to discard outright. A pair of dark, tight, figure hugging skinny jeans she was sure Maura had never seen before, and a deep red, rather fancier tank top than she usually adorned. Jane lifted the garment gingerly, like it might bite her, and stared for a moment, weighing her options. It would cover the unsightly newly healing scar tissue on her back from that bastard's whip, as well as the numerous inflamed areas across her stomach and shoulders, but it would leave her arms bare. She supposed she could call that a compromise.

Decision made, Jane set about selecting footwear. She was determined not to wear uncomfortable heels that would put her at risk of losing her balance. The difference in posture was also more likely to add the aches and pains still making themselves known over her body, and she was not about to add to them by tottering around on goddamn stilts. Eventually, she settled for another compromise. Stashed at the very back of her wardrobe, almost all the way into Narnia territory with all the other forgotten things she had thrown there in the past, Jane found a pair of rather more dangerously high heeled studded boots that she picked up years ago and never found an occasion to wear. They were too impractical for work, and not quite fashionable or attractive enough for a night out. However, they seemed perfect for her chosen outfit. High enough that she would still be taller than Maura in her heels, but low and comfortable enough not to incapacitate her.

Feeling slightly better about her decision, Jane hurriedly gathered together her possessions and hung them all away to kill some time before this evening's activities. She wasn't sure why tonight felt so important. She supposed it was down to the fact she knew she loved Maura, and that tonight wasn't about getting to know someone, or trying to get into her pants. All they had to go on was the desire to be with one another. She knew Maura and Maura knew her, but still, Jane wanted to impress. She wanted to be enough. They had already consummated their relationship and Jane felt like maybe they had rushed into that a bit too soon. She didn't regret it, not by a long shot. It was wonderful. Maura was wonderful. But she still had that lingering feeling that she should have waited until she was fully healed, at least physically. Maura deserved that.

Before leaving with Jo on her lead so her Ma could take her for a walk later, Jane, on a whim, decided to throw on a black leather jacket that made her look more confident than she felt. Giving her empty apartment one last going over, Jane then looked directly into the mirror, noting the way her face had filled out again and didn't have that gaunt, sickly look anymore. With a last mental warning muttered inwardly to herself, Jane zipped up the jacket, grabbed Maura's presents and headed out to the cab that was waiting for her.

* * *

Maura Isles was panicking. Not in her usual manner, not with a vasovagal episode or hives. This was slightly more difficult to detect to anyone who didn't know the Doctor well. The fact she had selected twenty different outfits and thrown them all to one side in disgust did not bode well. She was nervous. Yes, she was aware of the fact that she and Jane had been friends for years and had already stepped over that line in the sand and consummated their relationship, but this just felt like more.

She was nervous. And terrified. And panicky. But mostly, she was happy. Happy to finally be here. Happy to be taking this step forward and going out in public as a couple. That was a big deal. A _huge _deal. Never in her wildest daydreams did Maura ever consider getting this far with Jane Rizzoli. Especially after all she had been through recently. Maura wanted to climb onto the roof of the tallest building for miles and scream out how much she loved Jane to the unsuspecting masses below, but this was enough. It was more than enough. When Jane had shyly asked her three days ago if she would like to accompany her on a date she had been giddy with joy. Actually giddy. Even Frost and Korsak had commented on it today as they waited for an autopsy report. Although she wasn't sure that Jane would appreciate her telling anyone, she simply had to inform them of their date.

She was sure she would have fainted by now if she hadn't told someone.

Jane was due to arrive in around five minutes and she was trying to calm down by listening to some relaxing music whilst she organized her purse and bag and jacket and then reorganized it before wiping down the counter three times and feeding Bass twice because the first time she forgot about a certain lettuce type and then…

The doorbell rang.

Maura thought her legs might give out underneath her. She frantically ran a hand through her already immaculately styled hair, ensuring not a strand was out of place as she gulped down the oxygen that had suddenly become scarce and walked towards the front door. Maura unlocked the door and hurriedly yanked it open.

There she is. Standing there underneath the porch light, holding a bouquet of flowers and running a hand nervously through her dark hair, which she had managed to straighten slightly into luxurious waves, which were cascading down around her shoulders in the most deliciously alluring fashion. And _my god_ does she look good. She looks so much better. Even though her eyes were darting around and she was shifting warily from foot to foot, nervous and clearly in some pain, Jane looked like a million bucks. Her natural beauty was undeniable, highlighted by only the slightest amount of mascara and eyeliner. The effect of her fitted clothing and dark hair was, simply put, stunning.

The Detective looked up and grinned crookedly, "You look amazing Maura," she said, drinking in the black dress with a plunging neckline that accentuated Maura's shapely curves. Jane thrust her hand and the flowers forward in a jerky movement.

Maura thought the sight of that smile alone was going to cause her lose the ability to breathe for the rest of the night. Perhaps even the rest of her life.

"I uh... Asked the florist what they all meant." Jane moved her other hand behind her back, "I picked these ones 'cause they remind me of you." She said helpfully, taking Maura's silent invitation and heading inside to retrieve her date's purse and light jacket. When she glanced back at Maura, she saw that she was still standing in the open doorway, staring at the flowers clutched in her hands.

The sight made the Detective ache a little. In a good way.

Jane walked over, took Maura by the hand and led her back to the counter where she then grabbed a vase and filled it with some tepid water since Maura seemed to still be in some kind of trance.

"Amaryllis," Jane pointed to one particularly vibrant cluster of brilliant red petals. "Symbolises pride, determination and radiant beauty." The Detective eagerly moved her hand, gesturing again, "Daffodils traditionally represent rebirth and new beginnings. The Iris... It's three upright petals are said to stand for faith, valour and wisdom." Jane smiled down at her, "Three things you have plenty of." She then took the rather haphazard array of flowers from Maura's hands and tipped the last cluster towards her as she placed them delicately into the water, "And roses. The red rose symbolises _enduring passion," _Jane drawled, rolling her eyes, deflecting the serious admission with humour as usual. But Maura knew she meant every word.

"I... Thank you Jane," Maura said humbly, "Nobody's ever done something like that for me before. Thank you." She repeated, almost dazedly. Jane flashed a brilliant smile and then held up the ME's jacket so she could slip her arms inside. Before Maura could turn away Jane pulled her closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her waiting lips. Pulling back, she smiled, "Your chariot awaits you milady." But then she paused, slamming her palm against her forehead theatrically. "Almost forgot…" She grinned, reaching behind her and producing a bag of fudge clusters. Maura's entire face lit up as she took in her favorite treat, the knowing smile on Jane's face, the gold ribbon tied around the pack.

It was Maura's turn to dart forwards and draw the Detective into a searing kiss before they had to tear themselves away from one another's lips.

When they arrived at the restaurant Maura's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. The fact they were welcomed at the entrance by Leo and his father Sergio only added to her delight. The two men were perfect hosts and gentlemen, leading them to their table personally and ensuring they wanted for nothing over the course of their date, providing a set menu to suit their tests and the best wine Jane had ever tasted. It felt surreal to be seated across from Maura Isles, and although she was enjoying herself immensely, Jane couldn't help but feel that she could sense people staring. She tried to push such thoughts aside, Maura was the most beautiful woman in the place and it was only to be expected that she would warrant some attention from their fellow patrons.

By desert, through Maura's usual easy conversation and outpouring of information about the things they were eating, Jane had finally started to relax and just appreciate what she was experiencing. Not many people could say they had this in their life, and she was damned lucky to be someone who did.

Maura was passing comment about the name of the restaurant when Jane spotted him. Maura's warm, gentle hum of a voice floated over her as she watched him coming towards their table, grinning from ear to ear. "… From the Italian word _albero_ which actually means _'tree'_ which ultimately derives from the Latin _arbor_, referring to someone who either lived in the woods or someone who chopped down trees, a forester perhaps…" Jane held up her hand, prompting Maura to stop, confused as to why her date's expression had become withdrawn and hard.

"RIZZOLI!" An unfamiliar male voice called out. Maura turned around just in time to see a thirty something year old man come streaking towards them through the rows of tables. He was wearing a blue shirt tucked into pants that were more than a little too tight for his bulging belly; the thinning blonde hair on his head did nothing to distract any onlookers from his thick jowls and red cheeks, probably from too much wine at dinner. "Rizzoli, hey!" The stranger said again, thumping Jane on the back with drunken gusto. Maura watched as Jane clenched her teeth and offered a strained smile as way of greeting. The man looked at her with unabashed interest and announced, "Wow Rizzoli, read all about what happened to ya in the papers!" In a terribly loud voice which had heads turning. The Doctor tried to smile at the annoyed customers at neighboring tables, hoping they would realise that whoever this man was, he was not particularly welcome. Seemingly either unaware or uncaring of Jane's tight lipped, barely concealed discomfort, he continued, "What a fucking psycho man, hope you're doing okay!"

It was then that he noticed Maura. He raked his eyes over her in a hungry fashion that had her instinctive dislike for him reaching new heights. He stuck out his hand and sent a grin her way. Sensing that this was unavoidable, Maura accepted his hand, flinching inwardly at how greasy it felt. "Where are my manners? Name's Ray Miller, pleased to meet you… " He left that hanging, "Maura Isles," she replied with a polite smile. "Pleased to meet you Maura! I used to work with Janie here, Narcotics. We were partners for a while weren't we?"

Jane nodded, before grinding out, "Isn't Sally waiting for you Ray?" He laughed, tossing his head back to show off his yellowing teeth. "Oh she's over there Janie, told her I couldn't pass up a chance to catch up with my old pal after what she's been through!"

Ray Miller seemed to pause for a moment as he regarded them closely, mentally taking note of the way they're dressed, how they're sitting, the way Maura is looking at Jane. He held up his hands as though scalded, "Oh sorry Janie! Didn't realise I was interrupting your date!" Then he winked at Maura and said in a conspirational tone, "She used to say she wasn't gay but I always kinda knew…"

Jane was on her feet so fast the table shuddered as her hands slammed against the surface, sending cutlery clattering against plates and Maura's napkin to the floor. "That's enough Miller. Maura's my best friend, and it's none of your fucking business anyway." She snarled, voice gruff and low. The anger in her dark, fiery eyes registered immediately with her old colleague as he backed down, hands still aloft.

"Cool it Rizzoli! Don't make no difference to me if you bat for the other team." He said, giving Maura one last appreciative smile, "You sure can pick 'em Janie." He said with another clap of Jane's slumped shoulders. Ray Miller waved over his shoulder, "Take it easy Rizzoli! See ya around!" And with that, he trotted back to his waiting wife who put her arm through his as they headed for the exit.

Jane stood stock still for a long moment, hunched over the table, breathing heavily. Then she reached into her purse and tossed a few bills down, her face white and pinched. "Best friends?" Maura asked quietly, white hot fury igniting in her tone, glaring up at the Detective.

But Jane was already moving towards the door, leaving Maura behind, staring down at the hastily produced bills, tears in her downcast eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** A longer chapter to make up for the shorter one last time. So, maybe Jane isn't as comfortable with this relationship as she's convinced herself she is... Anyway, let me know what you think if you feel so inclined, always delighted to read your reviews. I have considered replying to each one individually, but then I clam up and genuinely don't know how to properly thank you. But, collectively, thank you so much for your continued support. I'm glad you're enjoying this, or at least sticking with it. Any mistakes are mine, I made up the restaurant and if it sounds incredibly stereotypical I apologise. If you have any suggestions, please let me know, it's taken very seriously as I value each of your views. Sorry this note was so long so I'll stop now...


	32. Exposed

Although she would never, ever, not in a million years, not even if she was lying on her death bed, drawing a final, rattling breath before crossing that great divide into well, wherever it is one goes, ever divulge the fact that she, Angela Rizzoli, was often plagued by nightmares involving her oldest, middle, and adopted children… Mornings like these made her almost want to. Even Tommy popped up now and again for a cameo appearance in the horrendous dreams that left her in a pool of drying cold sweat, feeling drained and heartsick and desperate to hear the familiar, very alive voices of her family. It was just so dangerous, the things they did and the situations they somehow always managed to embroil themselves in.

Why is it every serial killer, every sociopathic psycho in Boston seemed to vent their frustrations and desires onto her children?

It was a constant worry. A constant ache in the depths of her chest and nestled in the back of her subconscious, just waiting to be called into action again. She knows she is overbearing sometimes. She knows that it annoys Jane endlessly. She knows that she pushes her eldest away by being so overly protective and interested and invested in the tiny little things that go on in her life, as well as the bigger, more life altering issues.

She can't help it. She _worries. _

All. The. Time.

And for good bloody reason.

Jane would get hurt. Not badly, okay, fine, she was a Detective. It was to be expected.

Then Frankie would get banged up.

Then Maura would be in danger. Okay, we can cope with that. She's the daughter of a mob boss. She works with Detectives. It's to be expected.

Then Jane would get hurt again. This time, it would be worse.

Her Janie, missing, tortured, abused, again. Again and again.

And then back to Maura again.

Then Jane.

It really was tiresome baking and cooking to quell her panic all the damn time for every disaster.

It was driving her to an early grave, all this worry. All this panic and worry and concern. Even concern where it was unfounded, because eventually, when bad things happen so often to a group of people, it starts to become a warped sense of reality. As though this pain was something they should get used to and get over, because it was all they would ever know. That seeing each other hurt and scared was a part of normality. She hated that. She hated the fact they felt like it was their duty to take the pain and the fear and work with it.

And so that was how Angela Rizzoli found herself trawling around the store at half six in the morning, humming under her breath as she picked out Jane's favourite unhealthy foods alongside Maura's good for you in all kinds of boring ways options. Lucky Charms and pop tarts and Greek yoghurts that even she couldn't find it in her heart to endorse and leafy green vegetables that the Doc could try and fail to force Jane to eat for dinner before relenting and sliding a tray of pizza rolls into the oven instead.

She loved that about them. There are certain things that neither would do if it weren't for the other.

Doing yoga or eating greasy pizza rolls at nine o'clock at night just because Jane wanted to.

That's love. That's love right there.

Love is Maura standing in the doorway looking on with a serene smile on her face as Jane and Jo cover her perfect sitting room in hairs and beer bottles whilst watching some crappy show on television and not giving a damn about it.

Love is Jane staring over her shoulder at Maura as she putters around in the kitchen wearing that adorable apron she always pulls on before cooking, her normally guarded expression completely gone and replaced with genuine awe and sincerity.

That's love.

Angela, so wrapped up in these strangely contemplative considerations for it being stupid o'clock in the morning, almost missed the very summation of her thoughts.

She reached the milk and then paused, foggy mind struggling to catch up with what her eyes had already processed. Then she whirled around, almost taking out a shelf stacker who shot her a dirty look which she steadfastly ignored, being almost immune to such looks after suffering over thirty years worth of them from Jane, and made her way back down the aisle at a ridiculous pace.

Angela snatched up the newspaper and allowed her gaze to prowl over the headlines for a moment before darting to the large, possible larger than was strictly necessary, picture, and then down again to the main story.

She wasn't sure whether to laugh, sigh, or roll her eyes. In the end, she settled for purchasing three copies and ambling on her way, trying to think of a way to break this new development to the happy couple.

The happy couple who _still _hadn't announced themselves as such to their Mother.

What a liberty.

* * *

For the first time it what felt like years Maura Isles slept in her bed alone. She should be used to it. The vastness of it. The way she automatically curls into the opposite side of the bed, expecting to feel the comforting warmth emanating from Jane's lanky frame and instead finding only cold sheets. She should be used to that feeling of emptiness. She should be used to waking up alone and missing the weight of Jane's arm that somehow always ends up strewn across her midriff at some point during the night no matter what position they fall asleep in.

She should be used to this by now having experienced many, many years of just this.

When one grows accustomed to something in their life and then it is cruelly ripped away it hurts. She had known this for a fact as she settled down for bed the previous evening, having cried all the tears she could possibly cry, growing angry enough to slam her high heels against the wall before dissolving into sobs on the bed and then composing herself just enough to become irritated with herself and place the shoes delicately back into their box inside her cupboard and changing into nightwear. It took her over three hours to eventually fall into a restless slumber.

She rose early as always and immersed herself in her usual morning routine, attempting to sluice away the memory of last night with a hot shower and wrapping her body in the comforting material of a favourite blue dress and heels to make her feel like she could face this day head on.

She would probably have to talk to Jane at some point. She had to speak to Angela and Frankie and Tommy… Everyone. As usual. Like nothing at all was wrong.

With a deep, pained sigh, Doctor Maura Isles ran a self conscious hand through her curled blonde hair and gave herself a stern nod in the mirror as she turned around and made for the bedroom door.

As she stepped into the sitting room she heard the lock click and froze right there, in her own home, close to hyperventilating as the front door opened and in stepped none other than Jane Rizzoli.

Faded jeans, worn oxford shirt, jumper thrown over the ensemble without much thought. It was just so very Jane and then suddenly it was like last night had never happened and neither had her ordeal with Jefferson and it was just another Saturday morning where Jane arrives sinfully early and they go for a run and then shower and eat breakfast together, watching the news, reading the paper…

Jane glanced up and caught her best friend's eye; her expression remaining fixed and closed off. Maura knows, from past experience, that she isn't there yet. She isn't at the apologizing and hugging and making everything right again stage. Not yet anyway.

But if Jane were to apologize in that moment, Maura knew that she would be forgiven on the spot. She just can't seem to generate genuine rage at her Detective having seen her so open and vulnerable after what happened to her.

Jane was pushing it now, with her attitude and running out on her, but she still couldn't help but melt a little at the mere sight of her.

"Good morning Jane," the Doctor said coolly, steeling her emotions and continuing her journey into the kitchen, where she set about making coffee and toast for herself.

Jane could jolly well make her own.

"Mornin'," Jane replied gruffly, sending a grudging shiver down Maura's spine. The Detective's morning voice was a gravel and glass cocktail blended together, mixed with honey and swallowed in one gulp. She could scarcely handle it at the best of times, never mind right now, where her feelings towards the other woman were so muddled up and conflicted after last night's disastrous date.

And goddamnit, she had been so looking forward to just doing something a normal, everyday, average, _not-a-daring-Detective-or-Doctor-Death_ couple would do on a regular evening.

Maura took a deep breath, inhaling and savoring the bittersweet scent of the coffee bubbling merrily away, waiting to be poured and sipped at. She loved morning coffee the most.

Just like morning voice.

Morning coffee and morning voice. What a dangerous combination.

"What the hell is this?" Jane's morning voice sounded entirely different now. Strangled. Torn at the seams. Shocked. Maura could detect all of these emotions radiating from that unique voice in such a short sentence.

Confused, the Doctor turned, cup in hand, and raised her eyebrows at the Detective, who was standing at the counter with her eyes resolutely trained on a newspaper that she knew, instinctively, Angela had left there. She hadn't done so. And Jane definitely hadn't.

"What the hell is this?" Jane repeated, rather shrilly, jabbing one long index finger at the offending object accusingly, her features twisted and distorted. She lifted the newspaper and held it up, front page facing Maura, and then it made sense.

Jane's horrified, disgusted expression made sense.

Right there, on the front page of the Boston Times, was a very lovely photo of the two of them in the restaurant holding hands, and Jane's got this wide smile on her face and Maura just looks hopelessly love struck.

With the caption;

"**HOT ON THE STREETS. AND BETWEEN THE SHEETS."**

Maura opened and closed her mouth a few times. For once, she was at a complete loss for words. What could she possibly say?

_Sorry Jane, I have no idea how they managed to produce that segment in a matter of hours and have it ready to grace the front page of a very popular newspaper the very next morning. Sorry Jane, they probably already had that story typed and waiting for a picture like that to surface. Sorry Jane, I really can't help the fact it looks like I'm about to melt into your eyes across the dinner table. Sorry Jane, that is indeed your hand on top of mine, your thumb gently rubbing the back of it. Sorry Jane, sorry for loving you, sorry for outing us, sorry your Mother left this here for us to see, sorry sorry sorry, for everything._

Maura leaned forward and picked up the small note that had been resting beside the newspaper. In Angela's unmistakable handwriting read the words,

'_**We should frame this picture!'**_

With a tiny smiley face scribbled underneath it. Facing the inability to articulate her thoughts, Maura pushed it towards Jane and watched a myriad of emotions flickers across her features before she finally settled on rage.

"You think she'll still be saying that once she realises all the things we can't give her?" Jane snapped, shoving the piece of paper back at Maura and limping away from the counter, taking up a bout of frantic pacing as Maura looked on, attempting to get a handle on her own anger at Jane's hurtful words.

"Such as?" The Doctor asked coldly, taking a sip of coffee and forcing it down her throat, fighting her gag reflex.

Jane scoffed openly, scuffing her toe along the floor, "Like kids, for one thing," she said, ticking it off on one finger, "And a big proper Catholic wedding. And what about when she actually comes to terms with this? Hmm? You think she'll be supportive of us when she realises that she has to tell my entire family that her daughter's..." She broke off, gesturing vaguely with a still taped and splinted hand.

"In a relationship with a woman?" Maura supplied, raising one impeccable eyebrow.

Jane glared at her, "You make it sound so simple..." She growled, slapping an open palm down on the counter in frustration.

Maura sucked in deep breath, "That's because I fail to see the issue here. Your Mother has been more than supportive, she's been _encouraging."_ Maura let the word drip from her tongue like an icicle, "How terrible of her." She added, using Jane's own brand of sarcasm against her.

The Detective clicked her tongue disgustedly and resumed pacing, shoving a hand back through unruly curls and running her eyes from the floor to Maura to the paper to the door and back again.

_Fight or flight._

Jane broke the momentary stalemate by spinning around on one heel and pointing an accusatory finger at her best friend, "You don't understand..." She growled, "You don't know how hard it was to try and work with all those pig headed idiots! You know how long it took me to earn some respect?!" Jane's voice grew shrill and defensive, "You know how long it took for them to stop calling me Detective Dyke?!"

Maura shrugged helplessly, torn between her own hurt and indignation and Jane's suffering, which only seemed to add fuel to the Detective's fiery rage, "_Too fucking long!_" She rasped, "And now I'm right back where I started." Jane stopped, pressing her hand to her mouth.

"You don't think that hasn't crossed my mind?" Maura almost whispered, "You don't think people have enough cause to whisper behind my back without adding this? We are both in the public eye, this was going to happen at some point. Yes, preferably not now but nothing can change this! You don't think I haven't spent many nights running through all of these scenarios through my mind, dreading this... Exactly this." She tapped her forefinger against the counter, hearing the hitch in her voice and trying desperately to maintain her composure, "People will talk. It's unavoidable. There's nothing we can do to prevent people from gossiping, it's human nature. The thing that matters, at least to me, is that we have to be strong enough to deal with it. We have to stand up for our relationship," Maura said imploringly,

"Because it's unlikely anyone else will."

Jane blinked at her, bottom lip trembling slightly, as Maura continued, "And if you aren't willing to stand up for us..." She paused, exhaled, "Then you can get the hell out of my house."

As soon as the words left her mouth Maura felt her knees buckle beneath her and she had to cling to the counter in order to remain standing.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Jane curled her upper lip, "Gladly," she said smoothly, making for the door almost before the last syllable was uttered.

* * *

**A/N:** Many apologies for the long wait. You know… Life and all that jazz. Anyway, hope you liked it; I'm not sure of it myself but hey, when are we ever. I borrowed the headline from something I saw a long time ago, I can't remember if it was a gif, image, photoset or something else entirely, but credit to whoever made it and thought up that genius line. Thanks for your continued interest in this story, I'm still enjoying writing it, so I hope you're still enjoying reading it.


	33. Relapse

Frankie Rizzoli had taken to checking in one his sister's apartment every so often, just to make sure the place hadn't gone to rack and ruin or up in flames since the last time he poked his head in. Granted, such instances were probably highly unlikely, but seeing as the only person Jane seemed to be willing to let help her heal was Doctor Maura Isles, he had to try and be useful in other ways.

Keeping her updated on active cases was one. Asking for her expertise and assistance with studying and ensuring the information he so voraciously drilled into his head for the last exam remained fresh was another, because damn did he want a spot in homicide.

Sure, he had enjoyed his time in uniform, learning from those with a greater wealth of experience and helping the public where he could manage. Protect and serve, he was good at that. People liked him. They responded to his pleasant nature. But still, he was sick of writing up traffic tickets and dealing with endless amounts drunk and disorderly idiots and graffiti artists when he could be doing something so much more worthwhile with his time.

Frankie used the spare key to open the door to Jane's apartment and as soon as it was opened wide enough, he could smell it. Alcohol. It left him standing there in the doorway for a moment, confusion etched on his handsome features as he attempted to decipher exactly what was in front of him.

"Janie?" His voice sounded terribly loud in the crushing silence and for a moment he half expected the figure laying on the couch to spring up and attack him, because... Well because why would Jane be here when there was a perfectly warm, comfortable, plenty nicer place she could be sleeping tonight with her girlfriend beside her?

When the figure let out a distinctive groan, Frankie moved instinctively, closing and locking the door behind him before flicking on the lights and internally wincing at the sorry sight of his sister on her couch, surrounded by empty beer bottles and half a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table with the cap off.

"Urgh, put the fuckin' lights off Frankieee," Jane slurred, every word sounding like it was drenched in liquor and fermented in shame. "Too fuckin' bright in here..." His sister moaned, pulling a pillow over her face and burrowing even deeper into the sofa, if that was even possible.

Frankie stood at the side of the couch for a moment, taking in the scene, calculating how much alcohol had been consumed and what it was currently doing to Jane's body, considering she was still on medication and her injuries were yet to fully heal.

She shouldn't be drinking beer, never mind whiskey for Christ's sake.

Wrapping one arm firmly around Jane's shoulders, Frankie leaned closer and waited until she blearily forced her eyes open and brought them to his, blinking rather stupidly in the glare. Her face was pale. Far paler than it was the last time Frankie saw her. The whites of her eyes were abnormally bloodshot and it made the paleness even more difficult to look at. The young Officer gently pushed back some of Jane's dark curls so he could get a better look at her face, "Frankieee... I fucked up. Reeeeal bad." Jane drawled, her head lolling backwards against his strong arm. He quickly checked her pulse and found that it was a little more rapid than it should be under normal circumstances. Frankie gave Jane's hands a squeeze and decided that they weren't too clammy or cold. Finally, he lightly pinched her earlobe and grunted in satisfaction when Jane slapped at his hand indignantly, trying to pull away from him before he could do anymore damage.

Satisfied for the moment that Jane wasn't exhibiting much sign of alcohol poisoning, but was indeed very drunk, Frankie propped the Detective up against a mound of pillows to ensure she didn't choke on her own vomit whilst he was out of sight, and then slapped her cheek lightly.

Jane still managed to muster enough of her wits to give him a glare, but it was a muted, less efficient one than her usual style. "What have you done to yourself Janie?" Frankie whispered, letting Jane's head fall back lightly against the couch as he quickly grabbed the bottle of whiskey and replaced the cap.

Just in case she got any ideas.

Cursing under his breath, he walked smartly into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge as well as filling a large glass from the faucet. Whilst the water poured into that he peeked around the doorway to make sure she was still in the same position. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he noted that Jane was seemingly occupied with chatting amicably to a picture on the mantelpiece.

Shaking his head at the situation, Frankie collected the supply of water and headed back into the living room. Jane had her head bent back against the couch again, and so his first move was to help her into a sitting position once more and cover her with the blanket handily stored on the back of the couch. Jane's eyes, although unfocussed and blearily, seemed to narrow in on him for a moment as she clumsily patted his head, "Love ya Frankie," She muttered quietly, eyes sliding closed for a moment before popping back open when Frankie poked his finger into her kneecap.

"I love you too sis," The younger man returned the sentiment, trying to ignore the insistent burn of tears building at the back of his throat. God, he wished Jefferson would appear right in front of him. He would beat the shit out of him for doing this to Jane. Hang the career, fuck the consequences, he wanted Jefferson's blood on his hands in that moment.

"I need to say sorreeey to Maurah," Jane slurred, pushing Frankie back in attempt to reach for the cell phone lying on the coffee table near to where the whiskey bottle had been just moments ago.

Frankie gently held her back, by the shoulder, mindful of the healing gunshot wound hidden by her thick jumper. "How about you drink some of this water first and then maybe you can call her?" He suggested in a friendly tone, making sure Jane felt as though she was making the decision. She hummed for a moment as Frankie pressed the tall glass of water into her hand and then smiled at it as if it had transformed into a burger from the Robber, "Thirsteeeyy," she said in a sing song voice, drawing the glass near to her lips and then missing them entirely, sending a small amount of the cool liquid down her chest. She chuckled, "Whoops."

"Yeah, whoops." He said, suppressing a grimace, "Drink up Janie," The younger Rizzoli said, guiding the glass to Jane's mouth and then only allowing her to take tiny sips so she wouldn't choke on it.

Jane pouted at him when the glass withdrew from her parched mouth and he offered her a small smile, which she returned with a startling force, "Mished you," she said in a conspirational tone. Frankie felt a lump rising in his throat to join the tears already gathering and having a meeting there.

He swallowed fiercely and nodded, "Yeah. I missed you too Jane." She held up her hand and Frankie grasped hold of it, squeezing gently. "More water?" Jane nodded eagerly, happy to comply with his requests for the moment.

She pushed it away after a few sips and groaned, "I don't feel so good Frankie," in a voice that was a little clearer, more aware of its surroundings and the internal battle most likely waging in her stomach.

He watched as her complexion went from pale and white to distinctly green in less than three seconds. Without thinking, he simply lifted her off the couch and all but sprinted down to the bathroom, kicking open the door and getting her to the toilet just in time for her to start vomiting the pitiful contents of her stomach. Sighing, Frankie was reminded of the day in hospital when he found Maura doing the same thing in the tiny bathroom adjoined to Jane's private room. As he did then, he settled down beside the body being wracked by spasms beside him. He gathered the mass of dark hair in one hand whilst the other sourced a flannel and soaked it in cool water so he could press it to Jane's sweaty forehead.

A short while later, the vomiting slowed and then subsided enough for Frankie to leave and grab the bottle of water left behind in the rush to get Jane to the bathroom in time. As she sipped dejectedly at it, he considered her silently, trying to work out why she was in her apartment getting drunk for some unknown reason.

There could only be one answer. Something had happened between her and Maura.

"I seriously fucked up Frankie," Jane murmured, wiping her mouth with some wadded up paper and then flushing it with a tired finality, her hand slipping back down to her side as though that simple action had drained every ounce of her strength.

Frankie cocked his head to one side, "I guessed. You wanna tell me about it?"

Jane swallowed, willing the tears in her eyes to leave her in peace for one more minute so she could get this off her chest without the added embarrassment of crying all the way through it. "I love her. I love her so... So much, and I've just... I fucked it up. I don't deserve her."

Frankie gently wiped a lock of sticky hair from Jane's forehead and urged her to drink more of the water before she continued.

"She's always been too good for me, I know that. She's this amazingly beautiful, intelligent, wonderful kind human being and I'm just..." A humourless laugh escaped her in nothing more than a bark, "I'm a mess. I'm not even a Detective anymore." Jane banged her head lightly against the bowl and felt the first few tears seep out, "I'm a fucking drain on her resources. A fucking idiot, that's what I am."

Considering his reply carefully, Frankie said quietly, "Maura doesn't see it that way. She loves you too. Just as much."

Jane scoffed, coughing as the previous bout of vomiting caught up with her and she dissolved into hard, wracking shivers. Deciding that she was done being sick, Frankie helped his sister to her feet and led her into the bedroom, sliding her between the sheets and drawing the comforter up to her neck as he took a seat beside her so she could continue talking if she wanted to.

He let her take a few more sips of water and then put the bottle down on the bedside table, close enough for her to reach herself.

"Ma handled this better than me." Jane husked out, "I freaked out because some fucking asshole I used to work with called us out at the restaurant last night." She paused, shaking her head as though that might prevent the onslaught of tears, "Who gives a _fuck _about him anyway? I left her sitting there on her own like a fucking coward."

The self loathing was so evident in Jane's tone that Frankie took a mental note to make sure he dealt with this properly at a later date. This went deeper than getting pissed because she'd had a fight.

"And we were so happy before that... I ruined that for her. For us both. And then... This morning, I went over to talk to her and found..." Jane seemed to think for a moment before she nodded, "In the hallway Frankie, you'll see it. Next to my badge."

He came back moments later, holding the newspaper aloft just as Jane had done that morning.

"Catchy title," he said wryly, eliciting a weary chuckle from the bed ridden Detective. "So I take it you freaked out again?"

Jane nodded miserably, "I just... Saw red. All I could hear in my head was every guy I've ever worked with or dated calling me a dyke just because of my job and the way I dress and... I'm proving them all right."

With a raised eyebrow, Frankie read the final segment of the article and then looked up at Jane, "Did you even read this?" when she nodded, he read aloud anyway;

"_And so it seems that this dedicated, successful couple have found the light so desperately needed in their line of work with one another."_

Frankie tossed the paper onto the dresser and took his spot on the bed once more, shaking his head, "Not exactly awful..." Jane squeezed her eyelids tightly together and sniffed, "I know. Maura told me that if I wasn't willing to stand up for our relationship then I should go..."

The Officer sighed, placing his hand beside Jane's, "And you did."

Jane nodded, expression pained. The story was far from completed. There were many details she had omitted, but now she was just too damn exhausted to continue.

"I said some horrible things Frankie, horrible things..." He closed his eyes for a moment, nostrils flaring, and then nodded tightly, gently pushing Jane back into the pillows and then helping her onto her side. Just in case she got sick again.

"Go to sleep now Janie. Everything will look better in the morning. Maura will forgive you, if you just talk to her." Her hand shot out and latched onto his wrist, hard enough to bruise, and her wide eyes found his in the dim light, "You'll stay?"

Frankie covered Jane's hand with his own and held them there, looking directly into her searching eyes, "All night. I'm not going anywhere Janie. That's a promise."

Thinking his sister had fallen asleep a while later; Frankie decided to head back into the living room and give the Doctor a call. She would be worried, even after this argument and the things Jane had apparently said to her. As he reached the doorway, a sleepy voice said, just loud enough for him to hear, "I don't deserve her forgiveness," before falling silent once more.

With a heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, Frankie dragged himself into the sitting room, suddenly feeling at least twenty years older than he had earlier tonight. He picked up Jane's phone and twirled it between his fingers for a moment before deciding to call Maura on his cell instead. He didn't want her to answer thinking it would be Jane's voice on the other end and needlessly get her hopes up.

She answered on the second ring, voice frantic, "Frankie! What's happened? Is everything alright...?"

_Damn._ In attempting to avoid playing with Maura's emotions, he had neglected to consider the fact that receiving a call this late at night from him would probably worry the Doc even more.

"Everything's fine Maura!" he announced quickly and calmly, standing by the counter so he could look down the hallway and into Jane's bedroom. "I'm at Jane's." He said, and then added with a hint of frustration at his lack of coherence, "_With_ Jane. She's here. She was upset and ended up drinking too much... She's alright though; I'm taking care of her."

The silence on the other end spoke volumes. It told Frankie just how bad things had gotten between the two women in such a short period of time.

"Listen Maura... I don't know the full story, and I'm not sure it's even any of my business... I'm not defending Jane; she can be a real ass when she wants to be..."

There was quiet note of agreement from the Doctor.

"But, I think she just wasn't ready for news about the two of you to be splashed across everyone's breakfast tables and workstations. And... I dunno, I'm no shrink, but I just think having lost so much control... She would have preferred to handle that part herself. You know? Announcing it?" He took a breath, "In her own time?" He added, before he could lose his nerve, "And some of her old colleagues, they were real shits to her. Just 'cause she was a woman. One time, they stuck a whole load of sanitary... Towels to her locker, and another time they tied a bunch of tampons to her car... Stupid stuff, but it got to her, know what I mean?"

And on the other end of the phone Maura Isles closed her eyes and counted to five, cursing the barbaric, childish behaviour of some of their fellow human beings. Suitably disgusted, but not inclined to be forgiving just yet, she said, "Be that as it may Francesco, her response was entirely... Visceral. And unwarranted. I'm afraid that she'll have to deal with this. I'll help her, of course, but first she will have to make the decision as to whether or not she is ready to accept that this has happened. There's only so much I can do... By myself..."

The Doctor's voice hitched and Frankie instantly jumped in, "You're far from alone Maura, I promise you that." He said hoarsely, tone desperate and determined, "I think now... I think maybe she's ready to start letting me in again. After tonight. This isn't all on you Doc, I need to help more. We all do. And Jane's just gonna have to get over it. Just remember that everything's exaggerated by this situation... Everything's magnified way outta proportion here, because of that bastard." He said that last part whilst looking on as the woman they were discussing shifted and mumbled in her sleep.

"You can get through this. If anyone can get through this, it's you two."

Frankie heard the Doctor drag in a shallow breath before the reply came, "I'm just not sure anymore Frankie. But I hope so." She paused, and then, voice weighed down by what he assumed to be unshed or suppressed sobs, Maura gasped, "Take care of her for me," before she hung up.


	34. Three's A Crowd

Two days after the morning Jane Rizzoli walked out on Maura Isles the Detective found herself standing in front of the elevators inside the precinct, waiting for either one of two familiar faces to show. She had spent the best part of the last ten minutes avoiding her Mother, for reasons that were categorically obvious. She wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, and the last thing she needed was Angela Rizzoli creating a scene because her baby was back here too early.

The general hustle and bustle around her felt strangely foreign. It was always the same after extended leave. The gun shot wound she inflicted upon her own body took her out of action for months and when she eventually returned, everything looked the same, sounded the same, but seemed just ever so slightly different. Jane felt a wave of de ja vu wash over her when the security guard on duty handed her a visitor's pass which she gave a sound glaring to as she brushed past him, barely bothering with a good morning.

Rizzoli had taken to tapping an incessant rhythm with her left foot by the time Detective Barry Frost made his appearance. He saw her immediately and his expression morphed from an almost comical wide eyed, jaw gaping mask of disbelief before a toothy grin took its place.

"Hey Rizzoli! What are you doing back? How's the shoulder?" And, uncaring of their colleagues mulling around them, the inquisitive glances being sent at the now rather infamous Detective, he laughed a delighted, childlike sound of joy at seeing his partner up and about and looking so well. This woman had come through hell and yet here she was, standing on her own two feet. And sure, there was still something missing from her eyes, an undercurrent of tension snaking across her sharp features, a tiny knot of worry making itself known in the restless pawing of her hands against long healed scars. But she was here and that was all that mattered to Frost. Surprised at how easily he had been overcome with emotion, he hid it with the only thing he could do, he put his arms around Jane and held on tight, unable to suppress the instinctive desire to somehow protect her; even here where they should both feel safe. Jane returned the hug with just as much gusto, if not more.

Jane offered him a tight smile, moving her injured shoulder back slightly, demonstrating what hours upon hours of muscle strengthening work had done for it. His eyes widened, impressed by the improvements.

Frost stepped back after a long moment and gave her a once over, raising one curious eyebrow when she looked at him guiltily, instantly sensing he was about to be dragged into questionable activities. He had known Jane Rizzoli long enough to recognize that glint in her eyes that said, _'buckle up partner,'_ before they were launched into something bordering on madness.

"I need your help Frost," Jane said quietly, shooting him a dark glance from beneath long lashes. Frost could sense something bubbling inside his partner, just waiting to soar free from whatever restrictions she had placed upon it.

He was definitely in trouble.

"What kind of help?" The younger man asked cautiously as they stepped into the elevator and Jane took a quiet moment of satisfaction in pressing the button that would send them up to the bullpen. Something so simple would often be taken for granted, but now it felt special. It felt almost sacred. A part of her routine that she never thought to miss, but now realised just how important tiny things like this were to her. Utter normality, which was a concept she had been sorely lacking recently.

Their job wasn't all about getting kidnapped by demented, sociopathic killers who delighted in the sadistic and relished inflicting pain on other human beings. It was a difficult job, but it wasn't all darkness. There were moments of utter clarity when she could honestly say that yes, today she made a difference. Today, she saved someone's life. Today, she put a very bad man away for a very long time and he wouldn't be able to hurt anymore innocent people.

Pressing that one little button reminded her of that and she supposed that feeling of rejuvenation and reconnecting with her familiar haunt allowed her to gather the courage to explain exactly what she need from Frost.

She knew for a fine fact that this man was not going to be at all happy with her request. This good, strong, dependable man who had become more than a partner, more than a friend, something of an extension to herself, was not going to agree readily to what she was about to propose.

Working with a partner on the force meant knowing them intimately. It meant being able to predict their actions and decisions almost before they managed it themselves. It meant forging something concrete and real out of a working partnership and, most of all, it meant trust. Working with Barry Frost meant trusting him to have her back out in the field.

That was why both Korsak and Frost were the right men for this. One had been her partner and one currently was. Aside from Maura, nobody knew her better than them.

"I need you to get me in to see Jefferson." And although inside, Jane was fraught with nerves at Frost's potential reaction, outwardly she was the epitome of calm. That was a necessary façade. If she appeared even the least bit unsettled, there was no way on god's green earth that they would even consider letting her visit the bastard.

And, true to form, Frost emitted a quiet exclamation of shock as if saying, _'you have got to be kidding me'_ without the need for superfluous language. When Jane's gaze never wavered from his, when he looked closer and saw the determination etched into her pale face, when he noticed the tiny fire that always burned inside her dark orbs when they worked a case, he knew that she wasn't joking. There was no reason to joke about this situation anyway, not even when Jane returned to work. In the past, they would laugh things off. The dangers they faced were wiped away with banter and laughter and some friendly ribbing.

Not this. For something as serious as this, Jane needed support. Other people could make her laugh during this time. He wasn't prepared to let her get away with hiding her emotions with humor. He was not about to begin handing out the kind of support that laughter and jokes brought, but instead, he had been coaching himself on how to deliver the structured, unchangeable sort that assured her that he wasn't going to let her choose another partner because she couldn't stand the thought of him viewing her as weak. Jane Rizzoli was anything but weak.

"Jane, you know what Cavanaugh will say to that. There's no way…" Frost began in a soft, gentle voice but the taller woman cut him off with an impatient sweep of her hand as they walked into the all but empty bullpen, "I'm not asking Cavanaugh right now, I'm asking you." She stated simply, making a beeline for Korsak's desk having spotted the coffee cup resting there, signaling to them both that their Sergeant had already arrived.

Frost bit the inside of his cheek, a thousand possibilities running through his quick mind at an incredible rate. The Detective, so talented with all things technical, possessed an analytical mind. Often, he relied on Jane and Korsak for the _'gut feelings' _that led to breakthroughs and focused on gathering the information needed to prove them. That wasn't to suggest he never experienced those sensations that led Officers into believing, quite wholeheartedly, something that could not be proved outright, but still, he felt safe with his fingertips poised above a waiting keyboard as Rizzoli hammered out a theory beside him.

And damn had he missed that over the last month and a bit.

Before either of the Detectives could say anything more, their colleague rounded the open doorway with a large box of files in his somewhat cumbersome grip, a donut hanging out of his mouth which promptly fell into the box when his gaze landed on Jane.

The files were dumped unceremoniously onto his already untidy desk as he came around to embrace his honorary daughter, who had managed to procure a smile from somewhere deep inside. "How we doing old man?" She grinned into his shoulder, feeling better with his arms around her, feeling safe, feeling whole for the first time since she left Maura sitting in the restaurant.

"What are you doing here Janie? You're not due back for another month at least." Korsak said, unable to keep his tone from sounding slightly chastising. To her credit, Jane just rolled her eyes good naturedly. She was starting to get real tired of all this molly coddling, regardless of how much she might actually need it.

Jane dragged her chair out from behind her desk and gestured for her partners to do the same. They followed suit immediately, one man already knowing what this conversation would be about, the other fabricating a very educated, and indeed highly accurate guess.

"I need to see Jefferson." Detective Rizzoli just said it, using a simple sentence that conveyed none of her intentions except the main one; meeting with him.

Korsak rocked back in his chair, bringing the coffee up to his lips before deciding against it and shaking his head, glancing around the bullpen as though expecting Cavanaugh to storm in at that very moment and discipline the three of them for even discussing this. "Janie, as much as I would like to help you, I don't think that's a good idea. In my opinion, it's too soon." There was nothing condescending in his tone, and that was probably the deciding factor in Jane's ability to keep her cool.

"Listen, Vince, I need to see him," Jane ground out, attempting to maintain a neutral enough tone. She didn't want them to detect the hitch of pain. She didn't want them to notice the way she had to concentrate on not digging her nails into the matching scars that always seemed to ache more on days like this, where she felt out of control and out of her depth. "I just… I need to see him. I need to look into his eyes and know that he isn't some…" Rizzoli scrunched up her nose, searching for the right words, "Some demon, some monster with these evil powers. He's just a man. He's just a pathetic, sorry little man who didn't win."

Frost and Korsak shared a level glance, both mentally weighing up their options. On one hand, this could push Jane over the edge and give Jefferson that wonderful power to gloat that so many criminals loved having the power to wield. This could be Hoyt all over again. And right now, Jane was basically a civilian. Therefore, it was their duty to protect her, not that they needed any incentive to do just that. It would be on their heads, their consciences would suffer if this went awry.

Frost shifted around on his seat, folding and unfolding his arms, "I'm not comfortable with this Jane. Nobody's suggesting for a minute that you would lose control, but I'm not happy with letting him see you right now. It's like we're giving him exactly what he wants. He wants recognition; he wanted to see his victims on the news, because he liked the attention. By bringing you to him…" Korsak jumped in and finished Frost's trail of thought, "We're giving him what he wants. We'd be feeding you to the wolves Jane."

Rizzoli chewed that over for a moment, eyebrows knitting together and betraying how deeply she was considering their perfectly valid points. Then she leaned forwards and said, "What harm can it do just to ask Cavanaugh? Tell him that we'll keep it brief, that we'll go during visiting hours if needs be. I know that you've been discussing visiting him. Don't think I haven't kept up to date. There's been talk of victims that have never been found, and you're going to have to interview him to pursue that. Why not let me talk to him off the record, and see if I can't get information you wouldn't be able to? You said it, he wants to taunt me. He wants to gloat." Jane shrugged casually, flicking her curls away from her collar with a dark look, "So let the bastard gloat to me, let him trip up and tell me something." In that moment, Jane wasn't above begging, "Please, I need this, I need closure. I didn't get to work this case, I lived the damned thing," She paused and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, "So let me finish it. Let me finish this right here and now. Today, if we can arrange it at such short notice."

Korsak tapped a fingernail against the desk whilst Frost kept his eyes trained on the older man, knowing that ultimately, he would make the final call. He would be the one to take this to Cavanaugh. He would be the one putting his job at risk. He would be the one who would mentally flay himself alive if he hindered Jane's healing process in any way.

"We'll be there the entire time?" Korsak stated more than asked.

Jane's nodding head bounced up and down, sending her dark hair flying messily around her shoulders. Frost smoothed a hand over his face, raising his eyes skywards. He had known from the moment he saw that glint in Rizzoli's eyes that he was going to be involved in some scheme. He should have expected this.

"If Jefferson says or does anything to upset you, we end the interview immediately?" Korsak's voice again, Jane's eager and urgent agreement following almost instantaneously.

With a sigh, Korsak handed his coffee to Jane, who shot Frost a glance that was bordering on being smug, and the partners watched as he walked smartly towards Cavanaugh's office. Rizzoli took a sip of the cooling liquid and looked at her partner over the rim, eyes sparkling. Frost pointed a finger at her, his expression stern, "Don't you make me regret this partner. I'll drag you outta there myself if it goes tits up." Jane merely blew stream of cold air into the coffee cup and shrugged, happy to agree to anything now that her request was in motion.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, he had to make another appearance at some point. I realise nothing much happened in this chapter, but I think it leads nicely into what happens next. Hope you enjoyed regardless.


	35. All That Remains

The guard's faces are always impassive in prisons. Show no emotion, show their charges no weakness. Never present an opening, because granted the opportunity, they will snatch it with both hands. With their blank faces, as if washed clean with water from the river Lethe itself, one might almost be forgiven for feeling a slight sense of unease radiate merely at their cold presence.

Upon reflection, it will almost always become clear that in here they offer protection, in this world cut off from society where insanity breeds insanity and feasts upon the flesh of those present and the multitude of monstrous memories locked up with their owners. A flimsy protection, but protection nonetheless. And for that, Detective Jane Rizzoli will be grateful. Especially to this man, leading her down the familiar path to the interview station, where cameras will watch their every move, where an alarm button sits patiently on the wall, waiting to be pressed to call for immediate attention.

As immediate as it can be. For the guards to appear in full riot gear and pull her out of there would take at least four and a half minutes. By that time, it could already be too late.

_Control. Control. Control. Everything about Doctor Harold Jefferson screams his need for complete and utter control. as soon as you sit down at that table across from him he is going to want to relive everything he did to you and his other victims in graphic detail to draw you back into his fantasy, to regain the upper hand and establish himself as the one with the leverage in this interview. _

Her thoughts were flowing thick and fast. All day yesterday, after visiting the precinct and asking for this interview to be arranged, she had studied her copious amounts of notes and every single known victim's profile, those found here in Boston and in San Francisco.

She needed to be prepared for him. Knowledge and information is indeed power in these situations. It was inevitable in this stifling room that Jane would find her previous thought processes racing jostling for position whilst she waited the coming confrontation. Her tactics and plans and ideas combining to give her some sense of control where it had been so recently torn from her. It was comforting, in a way, to go over them again and again, rehearsing, preparing.

Here, in this building, she had already confronted the worst humanity has to offer. She has often wondered if some of these men can even be regarded as human after what they have done. Where is the line drawn? Where is the point of no return? When does a man cease to be a man and instead becomes nothing more than an animal?

Hoyt. It always comes back to him. Even now, walking towards the battlefield on which she will stand and face this new sworn enemy, this man who will haunt her for years to come, she cannot help but be reminded of another interview such as this one.

He walked in there flanked on either side by guards, restrained with cuffs and chains, smiling at her like an old friend. He even greeted her in a similar manner; _'Jane, how lovely to see you,' _in his raspy voice. It made her shiver even to think on that now.

_See one. Do one. Teach one._

Hoyt was taught that in medical school. She hoped Jefferson hadn't followed the same rules. She felt it was unlikely. In order to teach, Jefferson would have to part with some of his treasured knowledge, impart some of his own findings on another; show another what belongs only to him.

And Jane didn't think he had it in him to share.

_Having Frost and Korsak there might throw him off guard. He hasn't been confronted with two powerful male figures before. He will most likely start by asking them to leave so he can have you alone with him again. Butting heads with your partners is not how he wants to spend the precious amount of time he has with you._

Today's interview was going to be different. This time, there would be no open plan cafeteria style room with guards stationed around her ready to intervene at any moment. No. Today, it was going to be a room and a table and two chairs. Guards outside, not inside. Door closed and cameras on. All of this was at her behest. Placing Jefferson in a room like they did with Hoyt would be a challenge to him. A stage, ripe and ready for his greatest performance.

Jane had learned.

She wanted it stripped, she wanted it bare. Just the four of them, but with the focus on her and him alone. She wanted to be the one to peel away his self confidence and the shroud of superiority and take a peek at what lies beneath.

_He will regale all three of you with tales of his greatest accomplishments; those he murdered. His ego could ultimately prove to be his undoing. In order to gain information from him you are going to have to play along to some degree. He will not readily provide you with details on these potential victims unless you give him something in return for his co-operation._

The Detective sat down on one side of table in the center of the small interview room. Feeling the heat of four eyes boring into her, she glanced up at her trusted colleagues, giving them a small, yet meaningful nod. They took their positions at the corners of the room, behind where Jefferson would be seated. Their presence was something Jane felt she could play to her advantage, as long as they didn't react to the things he would undoubtedly say. She had already forewarned them about his need for the theatrical. He liked the attention. He liked to be recognized. As Carson told them, he had injected himself into the investigation and followed its progress diligently. Up until Jane.

_Bargain. Trade off. Exchange. But what exactly? What is he going to ask of you? What is he going to take from you in place of the information he may or may not possess on other women who have been senselessly and brutally murdered at his hand? You are going to have to walk in there prepared for that potential exchange. What will he take from you? What will he bribe? What will he want?_

Jane broke the mould. With her, he lost focus. He became so wrapped up in attempting to break the strongest woman he had ever been confronted with that he lost that concentration, that weather eye on the media and the police.

_Today, you have other things with you. Perhaps they are bargaining chips. Perhaps they will serve as items of negotiation. Perhaps you will use them only to initiate a response from him that no words could possibly provoke. It makes you feel dirty even to think about what is lying in wait inside the crisp folder tucked neatly under your arm. It makes you shudder that you have even brought them with you. But this is his fantasy; this is his world in which he feels comfortable and protected. In order to gain access, you are going to have to knock on the door and wait patiently for permission to enter, but at a price._

The sound of the buzzer on the other side of the door serves as an instant warning that this battle is about to commence. Jane instinctively straightened in her chair, settling her linked hands against the folder now resting on the table directly in front of her. _Breathe in. Breathe out. _

_Never again will he lay a hand on his tools, never again will he hear a victim scream and beg for mercy that will never come, never again will he take an innocent life. This is an opportunity for him to gain images, scents, thoughts and memories. Things that will sustain his sick mind through the years of solitude to follow. _

Jane kept her gaze level and expression neutral as Doctor Harold Jefferson dropped into the chair opposite her and the guards clipped his chains to the hooks on the floor designed for that purpose alone.

That first glance into his eyes made Jane's body thrum with the urge to run from the room and never look back. Her hands were clammy, she could feel her knees knocking against each other with the adrenaline pooling and running through her veins. She was back in that torture chamber with blood and sweat mingling on her skin and soaking into her ripped, stained clothing, feeling her entire body erupt in flames as he brought that whip down again and again onto torn flesh.

_And he will take until he can take no more._

Jane maintained that careful impassivity even as she watched his relatively handsome features rearrange themselves into what almost passed as a welcoming smile. Those blue eyes were back again, gazing resolutely into her set. She could see them clear as day in the darkness within which she was held by this son of a bitch. They stood out like shiny little diamonds in the otherwise colorless realm of death she could have succumbed to. Jane did not look away when he mirrored her pose, clasping his hands together and placing them delicately onto the table, disguising the fact he was bound by those chains to the very floor upon which they both sat.

"Hello Jane," another predatory smile, this time with his surprisingly sharp incisors showing, glinting in the harsh lights that made Jane feel slightly nauseous at the best of times, and only now served as an added obstacle to overcome.

Jefferson tipped his head back and gave Frost and Korsak a cool glance over his shoulder. When he faced Jane again, one eyebrow had migrated up his forehead and settled there accusingly. "I wasn't informed we'd have such…" Another cursory glance at the men behind him, "Pleasant company."

Jane looked at her Sergeant and partner, a steely glint in her eye that said, _'Don't intervene. Don't say a word. This is mine. You'll lock him down if you react.' _Frost's fists flexed on instinct, his face still as a stone, unmoving, unflinching. Jane knew the danger hidden beneath that calm exterior. She had seen Frost snap. That couldn't happen now. She couldn't let it. Korsak's expression on the other hand was a snarl of pure disgust. At a level glare from the Detective he relaxed his features slightly, but neither man made an attempt to hide the rage present and burning in their eyes.

"They're my conditions Harold, without them, this meeting wouldn't be possible."

_Use of forenames is a recognized method of instating one's own sense of power and superiority, whilst diminishing that of the other person. Maura informed you of this once, a long time ago. You stored it away for future use. You can almost see your utilisation of his own weapon registering behind his intelligent eyes. _

Jefferson pouted slightly, his lower lip protruding grotesquely, giving him the look of an overgrown child who had just been told, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no desert tonight. "That's a shame; I had so hoped we would be able to enjoy this reunion alone." He said with the fake, forced kind of warmth that perpetrators often injected into their tone to throw the interviewer off balance. The ex-Doctor sat back in the chair, rolling his neck as though releasing some built up tension. He brought chained hands to his face and rubbed at his scraggly, thick beard thoughtfully, never breaking eye contact with Jane. "There's no way we can have them wait outside?" he enquired, in an almost conspirational tone, leaning forward ever so slowly, ever so slightly. Jane shook her head, making herself look somewhat irritated by this fact.

Jefferson released a weary sigh that made the hairs on the back of Jane's neck snap to attention. After a moment's silence during which only the quiet, steady tick of the clock high up on the wall could be heard, the killer offered her a quick smile and noted, "You look much better Jane, more like your old self. It's good to see." His voice was sugary sweet, laced with faux concern. Rizzoli fought down the desire to thrust her hands across the divide and grab him around the throat and proceed to squeeze the enjoyment right out of those unblinking eyes.

Instead, she began tapping the nail of her index finger against the folder partially concealed by her scarred hands. His gaze flickered for a moment. Just a moment. Diving down to the folder and then back up again, expression unchanging. But Jane saw it. She caught the momentary lapse.

He wanted to know what was inside.

_Maintain your composure. No matter what happens, no matter what he says, never let him see that he is getting to you. If you slip, even for a moment, he will pounce on it and use it to his advantage. If you lose control in this interview, it will go against everything you'll present in court. He will goad you. He will try and crawl under your skin and pretend that he knows what's happening inside your very mind. You cannot allow him to have control. _

"I can't say the same for you I'm afraid," Jane commented lightly, allowing her eyes to roll from his sunken eyes, pale skin and unkempt beard down to the body that was once firm and toned, but was now more skeletal than anything else.

He laughed, a horrid, brittle sound, "Well, getting shot in the chest is a little more painful than one might have thought." He tapped his finger gently against a front tooth and shrugged, too casually, rustling the ugly orange jumpsuit, "It does terrible things to one's body, getting shot that is. But you would know all about that Detective."

Jane caught Frost tensing across the room and pressed the two fingers on her right hand into her left. The signal they agreed upon before entering the interview room. The signal that said, _'Do nothing.'_

They had another signal for _'get me the hell out of here.'_

Detective Rizzoli nodded, "Well, that we can agree on." She replied, keeping a close eye on the hands nestled comfortably on the table across from her own. They, unlike his body, remained strong and hard. He had trained those limbs to be the main component of his torture. But there, a movement so slight it was barely there, that tremor. His undoing.

"So," Jefferson darted forwards suddenly, catching Jane off guard and causing her to draw her hands back. The smugness that danced in his eyes sickened her to her very core, "Why are you and your two… dashing Detectives here to see me then? Miss me? Desperate to see me again, couldn't _liiiive_ without me?" He said in a sing song voice, shuffling around on the chair as though suppressing his own urge to leap across the table.

_He will never stop trying to place himself above you. He will seek to intimidate you. That is how he gains control. Through intimidation and fear and taking his victim's sense of identity and safety away from them by locking them up like animals and systematically beating them into submission, only to let them run, hunt them down before killing them. The thrill of the chase, the excitement. Drama, theatricalities. All part of his MO._

Jane took a shallow breath through her nose, settling her nerves once more, "You know why I'm here Harold. You are not a stupid man, so please," She tipped her head to one side ingratiatingly, "Do not play dumb with me."

His grin was wide and immediate, self satisfied and callous. She caught a glimpse of his sharp teeth again and quelled her roiling stomach through force of will alone. "You don't ever see it coming, do you?" He smiled, raking a hand back through dark hair and having a quiet, private little chuckle to himself.

_Two fingers to palm._

_You made sure that your colleagues were well aware of this signal before the interview began. Until Jefferson pushes you far out into deep waters, so far that you couldn't be rescued unless extracted from the confrontation, you have to be left to handle him alone._

"It's always a shock, isn't it? Waking up in the darkness. Alone," Jefferson said, unconsciously echoing your thoughts. He pulled the corners of his mouth down mockingly, "Terrified. Always a shock, hmm? _Oh however did this happen to poor old little old me?" _This time his laugh was sharp, scathing. Jane's molars crashed together and ground tightly as a shudder ripped through her body.

"I got to know you. All of you. Intimately, personally. And none of you ever had a clue. You were like little jigsaw puzzles, and it took time, but soon enough, those _teeny tiny,"_ Jefferson held the thumb and index finger on his right hand an almost indeterminable distance apart, pushing the words out of his curled lips, "Pieces would all slot together and I could really enjoy breaking you all. Did you wonder why I made you pray with me Jane?"

The stuffy room chilled with such force and suddenness that Jane was convinced someone had purposefully blasted a wave of freezing air in around them. She had eyes only for him. Frost and Korsak seemed to melt into the wall. She couldn't have signaled for them to get her out even if she tried.

"Did you wonder what purpose that could possibly serve? Your Catholic upbringing, your overbearing Mother, your relationship with _Maura Isles,"_ her name was spat distastefully from his tongue like pips in a bite of apple, "I knew about all of it," He finished, leaning back with a wink.

_Whatever happens, do not react._

Detective Rizzoli tutted, clicking her tongue in a fashion eerily like her Mother, and shook her head in a pitying manner, "Harold, I'm not here to play games with you. You've made some quite… Astonishing claims haven't you?" extracting a beaten notebook from her blazer pocket, Jane pretended to flick through it for a moment, "Running that mouth of yours all day long," She admonished distractedly before announcing, "Aha!" and then, "_'At least ten more bodies in those woods,'_" Jane quoted, raising her gaze to meet his and pursing her lips, "_''Killed thirty people,"_ Jane's eyebrows crashed together and she looked up at him, lacing her features with pure confusion, "Isn't it more like thirteen, Harold? Eight in San Francisco, and five here in Boston?" It was her turn to pout at him, "Wishful thinking?" Rizzoli said knowingly.

Jefferson held her gaze for a long moment before he leaned forwards again, using that same tactic as he had done earlier. This time, Jane was waiting for it and emitted no response. She regarded him coldly, one eyebrow arched high and unconcerned.

"Have you ever seen a body reach the extent of its decomposition process?" He asked, "I suppose you must have, working for Homicide all these years. It truly is a fascinating thing to observe, isn't it Detective?" Her official title sounded like a curse coming from him. It sounded like a jibe. It sounded threatening, mocking, "How even the greatest beauty will succumb to it and find itself ravaged by the claws of death…" Jefferson shook his head, sending his tussled hair into a tailspin, "Tell me Jane," He said, eyes flashing with glee, "Have you ever thought about what it might do to Maura?"

Detective Jane Rizzoli couldn't help the instantaneous change that one question brought to her demeanor. It was subtle, but she didn't doubt he would pick up on the stiffening of her spine, the tightly coiled fists, prepared to strike, the clench of her jaw.

"Have you thought about it Jane?" His voice. A viper's whisper. A demon's dare. "Her rotting body underneath the dirt with all the other's? You must have. You must have thought about it." Jefferson twisted one side of his mouth into a smirk, "Now that really would be an injustice. Her lovely body moldering away…"

_He will mention Maura. It's inevitable. She was the one to save your life. She was the one who managed to goad him into action that day in the woods. He envies her. It is possible she was a part of his plan since the beginning. When he brings her name into play, do not react the way he expects. You can use her to your advantage. _

Jane placed her hands flat against the cool steel of the table which made her body look larger and broader, a technique she often used against suspects who wanted to intimidate her. Granted, she usually had the familiar surroundings of her usual interview rooms and Frost or Korsak were there beside her to shoulder some of the onslaught, but nevertheless, it made her feel more confident.

"Did you choose me because of Maura?"

Jane had hoped that sentence, the simplicity, the directness of it, would push Jefferson into an honest answer. She was correct.

He clapped his strong hands together, once;

_**CLAP**_

twice

_**CLAP**_

before saying, "Well done Detective. Actually, I had my eye on you for quite a while. I make it my business to know my competition. And I must say, you were certainly the most attractive, interesting specimen I had ever encountered. But," He released a heavy sigh, "When I became aware of the fact the great _Doctor_ Isles was involved with you, that was when I made the decision to make you mine."

His words were meant to touch a nerve, and perhaps, at the beginning of this interview, it would have. Not now, not now when she was close.

Not now when she was pushing him to where she needed him to be.

"Now," he licked his lips, "I'm sure that I know what you have there inside that folder. And if I'm right, I will be delighted to give you the correct area to search for my other victims."

Jane slapped the folder down on the table and practically slammed her upper body against the desk, this time, Jefferson was the one to flinch as she began her tirade, "In this folder are a few lovely pictures of your house of horrors. Some of your torture chamber, some of your precious tools. You want to see them, don't you?" Jane growled, "You didn't get the chance to look one last time before we threw you in here with the rest of the garbage. You didn't get to say goodbye. You didn't get to commit it to memory, all that _time_…" Rizzoli snarled, dropping her fist onto the table, letting the contact ring out loud and proud in the silence, "And _energy _and _death_…" Each word, punctuated with another fist pounding against the metal, the clanging sound chiming like a church bell, "You want to see it again, am I right Harold?" Jane's voice fell, became low, animalistic, feral, "You want to see all those women. Mutilated, snatched from their lives and hunted down and killed, by you."

The Detective sat back in her chair, rocked it onto the back legs for a moment before hitting the front two against the tiled floor once more, creating yet another audible distraction to keep a harassed looking Jefferson off guard.

"I have those pictures," Jane prodded the folder, "Right here, in front of me." The murderer's eyes narrowed and became greedy as they focused on the treats that were so close, and yet so far out of his grasp. Jane pushed the folder forwards, hearing the rustle of paper against metal, and Jefferson's hands twitched. Just as slowly, she pulled it back towards her and pressed her hand flat against the surface.

"Right here, in this folder. All those pictures Harold, all those things you want to see… All those pretty women, all your little instruments lined up on the wall just as you left them. Some of them still have my blood on them; you would like to see that, huh?" Jane's tone was almost seductive, drawing Jefferson further into the warm cocoon of her offer, his eyes shimmering with the prospect of surveying the world of torture and humiliation he created. "So many pictures Harold, all the things you worked so hard on, it took you a long time to build that place, to make it just right. Didn't it?"

Jefferson nodded tightly, eyes still trained on the folder under Jane's hand. "It took you a long long time, and now all that remains are these pictures…" She released a sigh, "We had our team tear the place apart, you know, we took all the tools for testing, all those men and women traipsed around with their heavy boots and destroyed everything…" The killer's head shot up so quickly she almost thought she heard the bones in his neck crack with the suddenness of that movement.

He looked aghast. Horrified, completely and utterly horrified, "You destroyed it?" He rasped, rattling the chains binding him to the floor as he waved his hands around in disbelief, "You destroyed it all?" Jefferson started to rise from is chair but Frost crossed the room in two long strides and slammed him back into it with such force the entire table rattled against Jane's midriff.

Jefferson's throat worked furiously as he fought to regain control. Rizzoli watched a few beads of sweat travel from his thinning hairline down his hollow cheeks and then onwards to his neck. "You destroyed all of it?" He finally whispered, voice rough and shaky.

Jane shrugged, "Not me personally, no. But my colleagues… Yeah, they pretty much destroyed it." She uttered casually, internally seething with a perverse kind of joy at the way his eyes bulged as if he were truly in agony, "Tore the place apart, couldn't stand to leave it the way they found it. Actually, I think once all the evidence has been properly analysed and collated, and the trial's outta the way…" Detective Rizzoli waved her hand in the air, "They'll probably burn it."

Her adversary sagged back against his chair, cheeks puffing out indignantly. He pointed a trembling finger at Jane, just as he had done that day in the woods, and said, "You can't do that. That's _my_ property. That's_ mine_!" in a high, screeching tone that did not in the least remind Jane of the low growl that she heard when he brought her to that fucking room and tore her apart.

Jane waggled her finger at him, "Actually, the house is still in your ex-wife's name. You don't _'own it'_, as such, and therefore… If her family don't want to keep it, which I personally think is likely considering all the _naughty_ things you got up to inside its walls, they'll sell it, the bank will take it, or," Jane said merrily, "My favourite option, it will just simply be demolished." Watching the plethora of emotions play out across Jefferson's face was one of the best sensations Jane had felt in a long time, aside from the way Maura made her feel. This satisfaction might be perverse, it might be pathetic to seek it out, but _damn_ did it feel good to cause him pain.

"Sooo," Jane drawled out, circling her finger lazily atop the folder, "This is all that's left of that place as you remember it. It would be such a terrible shame…" Detective Rizzoli frowned sadly in commiseration for the panting, flushed man across from her, "If something were to happen to these pictures, wouldn't it? If I just left… And didn't let you take a peek…" Jane made as if to push back from the table and Jefferson lunged forwards, hands outstretched, and once more Frost ripped him right back into the chair with a deafening thud.

Jefferson took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his upper lip, "If you let me see them, I will tell you were the bodies are." He said quietly, dragging his rabid gaze up from the table and onto Jane, who offered him a smile sickly sweet enough to rival the one he sent her way earlier, and ran the tip of one finger along the rim of the folder, watching his eyes following its movements closely. "Well, Harold, you could see all those pictures, and then you could tell me about those women you killed… That is, of course, if there really were any bodies in those woods."

Detective Jane Rizzoli rose from that table like a formidable wave rushing towards the defenseless shore and stowed the folder away under her arm once more, "There are no bodies in the woods Harold. You wanna know how I know that? There is not a chance that you would have killed someone and not dumped her body where it would be found quickly, where it would still be fresh enough to be easily identified by the police. You thrive on the credit. It feeds you," Jane's upper lip pulled back from her teeth in disgust as Jefferson bellowed his defiance and was unceremoniously yanked back from her by both Korsak and Frost this time, "There are no other bodies," She boldly stated, "You wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to torture their families by leaving their daughters and wives and sisters out like trash. The media recognition, the fear you instilled, _all of it_… You craved it. So would you have passed up on the opportunity to cause more pain?" Jane scoffed out a bitter laugh, "No. You wouldn't."

Jane loped across the room and pressed the buzzer that would bring the guards back down to this airless, stifling room where they could lead this waste of space back to his lonely cell. Over her shoulder, she said, "You're just a pathetic little man Harold, you're nothing special. You're not some demon or devil. I'm not _'yours,'_ I never was," Jane allowed herself a moment to let the image of a laughing Doctor Maura Isles to flicker into view in her mind's eye, "None of your victims belong to you. You're never going to hurt anyone again, you hear me?" Rizzoli thought for a moment before adding, "Those families can rest easy now that you're locked in here where you belong. You didn't beat me, I escaped. You didn't beat Maura, she saved us both. And all you have to look forward to is spending the rest of your life behind bars, locked up in a cage. In chains. Just like you did to me and those other women."

She raised an eyebrow, "Pretty ironic huh?"

The door buzzed open and Jane motioned for her trusted colleagues to file out in front of her. Both men looked equally satisfied, inspired, and pretty darn proud to boot. Just as the guards moved in to collect their charge, Jane offered Jefferson, who now looked deflated, small, and decidedly pathetic, a tiny smirk as she lifted the folder in front of her body, gripped either side of it with deft fingers, and tore it directly down the middle.

The three officers walked away with the sound of Harold Jefferson's wordless howls of outrage ringing around them, Detective Jane Rizzoli swaggering in front, leading the way down the corridor.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope I did this justice. It was probably my favourite chapter to write so far, I have to admit, so I hope you enjoyed it.


	36. Our Gallery

The confidence and bravado Jane Rizzoli left the prison with ebbed and dissipated with every mile that led her closer to her apartment. Everything she felt she had accomplished during the time she spent with Jefferson paled in comparison to what she knew she needed to mend with Maura.

She had reacted rashly, in the heat of too many moments. That was no excuse; her fiery temper couldn't be blamed on anything but herself. She had acted like a coward, there was no escaping it. And regardless of every ounce of competence she had once again shown in that interview, such things were rendered useless when faced with the truth about this situation.

Maura was hurting too. Not just her, it was entirely selfish of her to only focus on her own emotional pain. The Doctor, like they had both been for one another in the past on too many occasions one might argue, had been her rock.

Jane felt like a leech, sucking all the goodness from Maura's heart, filling and gorging until not an ounce remained. Maura wouldn't see it that way, for she had this wonderful ability to see past her failings to the good intentions that lay within. Good intentions simply weren't enough anymore. Words were not enough, promises were not enough. Jane had to employ action. She had to take decisive action if she wanted to heal properly and have Maura on that process with her.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything but the rain and the steady hum of delighted conversation flowing between her two treasured colleagues inside the vehicle she reluctantly climbed in back at the prison at Frost's insistence. Their journey consisted of Frost and Korsak showering her with praise and assuring her that just to be on the safe side, they would have cadaver dogs scour the woods. Jane was one hundred percent certain that she made the right call. Jefferson's reaction to everything she said told her that. But still, she felt better knowing Frost would oversee the search regardless.

They never could be too careful. They were no longer prepared to take any chances.

The complete change in their demeanour was almost tangible on the drive back home. Where before there had been wariness, fear and apprehension, there was now pride and giddiness and satisfaction. Yes, they were satisfied with her performance, as was she. Jane felt like her old self again sitting across from him, the man that sought her out of the crowd and made it his mission to destroy her. She wasn't quite sure if she felt comfortable with the fact it had taken confronting that pathetic excuse for a human being to scramble together some sense of self once again.

Maybe that simply reflected who she was, and she was a cop, first and foremost. That was another thing that terrified her as she stared distractedly at the drops of rain seemingly making it their sole purpose to drive downwards with enough power to burrow tiny divots into the ground beneath. The prospect of making someone else her priority was a sobering, terrifying thought. And it wasn't as if she hadn't put Maura before herself before, that much was evident. But now, if they were going to be a couple, two halves of a whole, then she had to be prepared to take less risks, to avoid rushing into situations safe and sound in the knowledge that if she were to die she wouldn't be leaving the better half of herself behind in such a way that they would never recover. In the past, there had been comfort taken by constantly reminding herself that if she were to get seriously hurt on the job, there would always be a way out for Maura. She could find someone, marry them, find the solace in that person that she could never find with Jane.

As soon as she stepped out of the car into the driving rain in front of her apartment block she was instantly soaked through to the skin. She almost relished the sensation of being assaulted by the heavy raindrops. The accumulated stench of decay that gathered in the seams and folds of one's clothes, the cloying stain that the dregs of humanity managed to squeeze out of themselves latched onto anyone who dared venture into their domain, and she was glad that the rain had this opportunity to cleanse it from her body.

Jane made her decision that morning when Frost picked her up and drove them, almost in complete silence, to the prison where she had faced her tormentor. She was going to speak to Maura tonight.

As the Detective paced around her apartment, dodging the scampering little dog who had mistaken her master's misplaced energy for a desire to play, she considered what she might say.

'_What kind of fool, what kind of emotionally stunted person writes goddamn cue cards for what they're going to say to the person they love?' _Jane asked herself moodily as she tore up another hastily scrawled note and tossed it impatiently into her overflowing bin. As she did so, she noticed the empty bottles of booze stacked inside. She grimaced, asserting immediately that Frankie had left them there deliberately as a reminder of what a sorry state she had gotten into and not, _under any circumstances, and I mean that Janie,_ to ever repeat.

The rest of the afternoon raced by in a haze of determined cleaning. Jane was sick of her apartment reflecting her mental state; complete rack and ruin. She had never exactly been the neatest woman in the world but neither was she a fan of wallowing in filth. There was a fine line.

And it hurt, still, and that made her angry at herself. Weeks had passed, months. Almost two, and she still goddamn hurt. It infuriated her that she couldn't vacuum her damn apartment without having to sit down on the sofa and practice two of Maura's breathing techniques before the pain and dizziness subsided enough to allow her to continue.

Oh did it piss her off. And maybe that meant she was pitiful, maybe it meant he would continue to have an influence on her life even after she had left that interview room with purpose and strength and a swing in her step, but she didn't feel like that was it. Before, she felt him at every turn. Wherever she looked, wherever her eyes landed, he was there, watching and laughing and saying '_Hello Jane, do you feel like praying for someone to rescue you today? I think we'll pray'._ And then maybe we can have a nice little chat whilst I beat the shit out of you.

That had lessened; there was no sense of foreboding when she glanced around her lonely apartment. No, this time, it was all her. She was holding herself back.

Nothing could tear her mind away from the thought of seeing Maura again, no matter how hard she tried to push it aside. There was something new settling low and deep in the pit of her stomach. Jane wasn't quite sure yet what this sensation was, but she was slowly starting to realise that it could just be the hollow, gnawing fear that Maura wouldn't want to know, that she would smile that pretty smile one last time and gently, but firmly, close the door in Jane's face.

* * *

Her boots felt as though someone thought it might be funny to lace the soles with cement as she treaded gingerly towards Maura's front door. There was a chill inside her that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature. After everything she and Maura had weathered together she had let this wonderful, amazing development start to seem like a problem. And it wasn't a problem. It was the best thing to happen to her in her entire life.

Now she had to make Maura understand that she was truly sorry for what she had done. She needed help. She needed Maura in her life to continue down this path to recovery. Jane knew she couldn't do this without her. Hell, she couldn't do anything without her nowadays. They truly were inexplicably intertwined, and now she had to make it right, somehow.

Jane was prepared to kneel down in the middle of the pouring rain, let the dirt soak into her pants and beg and plead and grovel for another chance. She loved Maura.

She was scared. Terrified. Uncertain. Wary. Confused. But not about how she felt.

Of that, she had been completely sure of for a long time. If she had to camp out here all night before Maura let her talk, then she was prepared to do that. Jane was prepared to do just about anything. She was messed up, that was obvious.

But she was not about to walk away after doing just that only two days ago.

Had it really only been two days? It felt like a lifetime since she walked out of that restaurant and left Maura sitting there alone.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _Jane berated herself as she prodded the bell and banged her fist against the door three times in rapid succession, letting Maura know it was her by way of her usual knock, only louder this time due to the noise of the rain and wind battering against her body and the front of the house.

Jane counted out a full two minutes before she heard the lock clicking faintly and felt her heart slam forwards against her chest, momentarily knocking the breath from her lungs when it opened slowly and inside, where the light lay, stood Maura Isles. The Detective swallowed a sob at the sight in front of her, knowing she was the cause of the smudge of black under her Doctor's eyes, the pallor of her skin, the dip in her shoulders, like she was carrying the weight of her pain right there on her back. Maura was dressed casually, wearing a pair of dark jeans that hugged her toned thighs and fell loosely around a pair of white sneakers Jane was sure had never seen the light of day, much less a drop of dirt. She had matched those jeans with a red, presumably cashmere, sweater that brought out the little tint in her eyes that sometimes appeared in a certain light. This Maura, the one behind closed doors who wore jeans and sweaters and white sneakers, was a rarity that only Jane was exposed to more than once every few months. Even Angela, who lived in this vision's guesthouse, only found Maura in more comfortable, relaxed attire late at night if she popped through for something.

And it just about broke her damn heart.

Attempting to hide the shivers coursing through her body as a result of the rain still relentlessly driving down all around her, Jane stood there for a moment, her dripping hair slithering down her forehead and into squinting eyes trying to focus on all of Maura at once, just in case they didn't get the honour of doing so again.

When she tried to speak, no words would come. For all her rehearsing, for the stern talking to she gave herself in the mirror at least three times before leaving, for the dire necessity of communication, she just couldn't.

Jane opened her mouth and tasted the rain. It tasted... Salty. Earthy. She realised that it might be a mixture of her tears and the water that had produced that particular taste.

"Maura..." She said and it was almost a sob. Maybe it was a sob, she couldn't really tell. Jane cleared her throat and willed the burning sensation in her chest to lessen just for a little while so she could talk, because she wanted to, she needed to. She could almost feel her tongue vibrating with everything she had to say. "Maura," Jane tried again, and this time, it was stronger. Not confident, not powerful, not even steady, but there and audible. "You have every right to slam that door in my face or tell me to leave right now..." The Detective paused, flicking her gaze up to Maura's face and then quickly blinking away again as though blinded.

Jane forced herself to make eye contact, "But I'm asking you not to." She said in a low voice, one that hummed in the raindrops and stirred their descent.

There was nowhere left to run, and she was so tired of running that she had no desire to try. Every other viable option and escape route had been exhausted, and here they were. And although she had committed herself to action earlier that day, Jane knew that first; she had to reach Maura with words. Maura's entire professional, and often personal life revolved around speaking for the dead, and where else could she speak from but her heart?

"Frost, Korsak and I went to see Jefferson today. He had been telling people that he'd killed more women and buried them in the woods," Jane shook her head with a grim smile, "He tried to get under my skin, but the interview went pretty well. We're confident he hasn't killed anyone else aside from those we know of. Just like you and Carson said, he thrived on the recognition..." The brunette caught Maura's eye and saw nothing there. Blankness in those normally bright and expressive eyes. It spurred her onwards, "Anyway, I'm not here to talk about him, he's already taken enough time away from us. I'm here to ask for another chance, Maura. I spent so much time lecturing other people for not showing you the love and respect you deserve, and I ignored my own actions."

The Doctor stared at her for a long moment before opening the door wider, a silent invitation; _come on in Jane, this door will always be open for you. _But Jane just shook her head vehemently, a self deprecating frown etched deep into her forehead, "No," she snapped, a little more harshly than intended, "No," Jane continued in a softer tone, catching the hint of trepidation on Maura's features, "I don't deserve that yet. I need to say my piece, and then you can decide whether I come in with you or not. For now, I'll stay right here..." She scuffled her boot for a second and then turned away, staring off down the street, throat working furiously, "For a long time, I haven't been the friend to you that I was and have been before, or should have been. I put you down to make myself feel better, because here I was, a cop falling for someone who is so far above her level it's almost laughable... I thought you were unattainable. I talked myself into truly believing that there was no way someone like you could ever love me, and I guess I slowly started to resent it. That's my own stupid fault; I had my head stuck up my ass for so long, hiding behind men like Dean and Casey to protect myself from the one person who has the power to destroy me."

Maura braced her hand against the door, steadying her shaky legs as Jane flashed her such a dark, primal look that she almost felt the ground give way beneath her.

"Because that's what you have Maura, being in a relationship with you means showing you everything, letting you see everything. I've never been able to do that, but I know that I have to try, for you. Because you deserve that. That's the least you deserve. All my defences have been stripped back and you've seen me at my worst and my best, and it's still not enough. You have my heart, that much is obvious, but you want my mind, my soul. Access to everything that is Jane Rizzoli, and I panicked. I grew up thinking what we were becoming wasn't right. It wasn't something that was constantly drilled into me, don't get me wrong, but it's always been in the back of my mind. Every time I caught myself looking at another girl and thinking _'gosh she's pretty_,' I would push it aside and bury it because _it's just not right," _Jane shrugged, tilting her head upwards and letting the rain wash away a few stray tears that managed to fight their way to fruition and mingle with the drops already lining her cheeks.

"Obviously, I grew up and started to see that for what it was; a whole load of bullshit, but still... By that point I'd already talked myself out of it. I'd already told myself _over _and _over_ again that there was nothing in it for me; nothing could ever come of it. And then it went from thinking that girl's pretty attractive straight to staring at you and your boobs or your ass or your beautiful face and listening to you tell me endless facts and figures and watch as you light up at the simplest of things and... And thinking just... _'Wow. Maura Isles. Wow,' _and then eventually from that to, _'I love her.'" _The Detective gave a strangled laugh, the sound echoing strangely in the otherwise silent surroundings, "And what was I supposed to do with that? All those feelings, I couldn't just walk into the morgue one day like 'Hey what's up Maura, _I'm so in love with you that sometimes when I'm with you it feels like something's trying to eat its way out of my chest_ wanna have Chinese for dinner tonight?'" Another gruff laugh, this one sounded pained, like it was being forcibly torn from her mouth with a pair of pliers, "Like that'd work..."

The Doctor sucked in a breath, suddenly finding it rather difficult to breathe. Hearing Jane talk like this was so... Disconcerting, that it had literally almost knocked her from her feet. She watched as the Detective rocked back and forth for a moment, rubbing distractedly at her healing shoulder as she glared up at the sky like it had personally wronged her.

"So when Casey," Maura's chest constricted at the mere mention of his name, "Came back into my life I practically threw myself at his feet in gratitude, thank you _god _for sending someone that I genuinely liked that I can love and do the whole _house, family, kids thing_ with and just forget about the fact I was in love with the best friend I've ever had in my life. I changed. I know I did. I turned into this..." She waved her hand in the air, unable to find the right words to express just what she thought of herself, "Pathetic shell of what I used to be, fawning all over him and weeping at his injuries. I loved him, sure I did, but I wasn't _in_ love with him. It was more like being in a relationship with a friend who was playing the part of a lover; there wasn't any great depth of feeling there no matter how much I tried to convince myself, you and the rest of Boston that there was. That must make me sound like a callous bitch, dismissing him like that..." Jane sighed, looking up at Maura from beneath her soaked hair, "But there's no denying it now. Not now that I've told you how I feel."

Maura shivered and pushed the door open again, speaking for the first time and hardly recognising her own voice, "Jane, will you please come inside. There is a greater risk of you catching an infection if you stand there in the rain, getting soaked for an extended period of time... Please, come inside."

Jane blinked at her, like she had just been offered all the gold in the world, and stuttered, "B... But, I'm not finished yet..." The Doctor huffed out an impatient grunt and reached for her best friend's arm, pulling her inside and closing the door firmly behind them both as though emphasising the finality of it.

After drying off with a towel and changing into some comfortable sweats and a shirt and sweater she had stashed away in the guest bedroom, Jane strode back into the kitchen and gently, but insistently, moved Maura away from the stove and finished making the hot chocolate herself before bringing both steaming cups into the living room and pressing one into Maura's hand. Jane sat down on the other end of the sofa, turning her body as far as it would go so she could continue looking Maura directly in the eye. Hot chocolate forgotten, Jane went on as if she hadn't been interrupted.

"When I first met you, all I could see was your standing as an Isles. I couldn't get past it, I couldn't square up your attendance at crime scenes and how polite and kind you were to everyone, even if you were a little on the awkward side," They shared a tentative smile, "With how I saw you. And then you started talking to me and we became friends and it was like you were painting all these... Wonderful, beautiful pictures with the words you were saying." Jane gazed off over Maura's shoulder, a hint of a smile on her face, as though viewing one of those pictures right then and there.

"It was like you had an endless amount of paintings all hanging on the inside of your mind in this neat little gallery, and when we started getting closer you would take one down and show it to me, _'look at this Jane, isn't it amazing? Isn't it complex and thought provoking?_' I'd be standing there nodding away and thinking _'how is she so intelligent? How does she do it?'_And then it was as if they then ended up hanging inside me, on the walls of _my_ heart." Maura Isles, had she not have already taken a seated position, might have fallen into one when those words came from Jane's mouth, so earnest and honest and hot with the emotions she was currently describing. Feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, Maura dipped her hand into a box of tissues and held one tight in her hand, just in case. "I'd take everything you said, store it away so I could look at again later, alone. And then somehow, I ended up with a personal invitation to visit your gallery, you didn't have to take them down and show me anymore, because I had the privilege of wandering around and admiring them for myself. When you told me you loved me, it was..." The Detective fumbled for a description, and then it popped into her mind like it had been there all along, waiting to be voiced. She stared Maura right in the eye and reached for her warm hand, coming close to weeping for joy when Maura let her take it and rub her thumb across the perfect skin, "It was seeing every painting in high definition, it was you... Merging both our galleries together, and I know that sounds so stupid but that's how it feels. To me... All my little stick figure drawings on scraps of paper were suddenly hanging up next to your stunning murals."

"I look at you... Every day, and I know you'll tell me how it's not scientifically possible and all that," They chuckled wetly as Maura began using her nimble fingers to massage the stiffness out of Jane's hands due to the cold. The Detective couldn't tear her gaze away from her practiced, tender movements, yet she continued regardless of that wondrous distraction, "But my heart just stops. It stops Maura. I look at you and I wonder how you manage to be so strong, after everything you've been through you don't ever stop being kind and compassionate and... Just, Maura." She blinked heavily, "Just so you... Since I met you, you've been a steady force, something that grounds me. I rush into things sometimes, I act on instinct, I say things without thinking, not all the time... But often enough for it to be a problem. You help me with that. Even with all your own problems and all the shit you've had to deal with... You're parents, Doyle, all the people who have ever hurt you... You don't ever forget about others. You don't ever forget... About me."

And with that, she had to stop for a moment, simply unable to force the words out around the lump lodged in a tight throat that could no longer communicate efficiently until the blockage cleared. Maura was patient; she passed Jane a couple of tissues and kept hold of those scarred, wonderful hands, and just... Waited.

Eventually, Jane ground out, "I can't express how grateful I am for that, and how grateful I am every day for you pulling me outta that dark hole Hoyt left me in. People always talk about the light at the end of the tunnel, but you were the light with me inside that tunnel, guiding me, with no regards for your own safety. I wear my badge and my gun like a shield that'll protect me from all the bad things in this world. I wear them like they'll help me protect us... I try too hard to fit in with the guys, I know I do... It was the first difference I noticed about us, but all that disappears when I'm with you. You showed me that it's okay for me to just be Jane for a while. Like it's okay for you to be just be Maura when you're with me.

After Hoyt came after us in the prison, I know I started to put distance between us. It wasn't obvious; we were still as physically close as we were. Hell, maybe even closer, I practically lived here with you and my Mother, but still..." Jane flinched when Maura hit a sensitive spot but instantly felt the soothing touch of the Doctor easing out the knots of pain and tension. Maura, despite being focussed on Jane's hands, was not missing a single syllable, "There was something between us. Why did Hoyt come after us? He would have known about Agent Moobs and Casey and whoever else, he made it his business to know things about me. So why not continue with his MO and go for me and a man? Why not sit a tea cup on his lap and do whatever the hell he wanted with me whilst they just had to sit and watch, completely helpless?

Because he _knew_." Jane enunciated, "_That _was what scared me the most, aside from seeing you get hurt. He might not have known exactly what our feelings were, but he knew there was something more than friendship. And he exploited that. He exploited the love I have for you and it made me sick. How could I love you and put you in that position when all I wanted was to protect you? Hoyt chose to hurt you because he knew it would send me over the edge. Hell, he probably knew that I could come back from someone like Dean dying, or maybe even Casey. But he knew that I would never be the same after he hurt you. You are my weakness Maura, as much as you are my strength. And that's why I pulled away, put Casey in front of me and whined to you like a five year old about him. Distraction. Diversion."

Maura stilled her movements when she felt the heat of Jane's gaze settle directly on her face. When she lifted her head, the sheer intensity of the expression she was met with stole her breath.

"He's safe, you're not.

Okay, so take my job. Every case is different, but the basics stay the same. Get a call to a crime scene, gather evidence, work out how they died and why someone might want them that way, interview witnesses, family, find a pool of suspects, listen to everything you and your lab people have to say, and then try and establish connections between the vic and the suspects, and using the analysis and our intuition, eventually collar the perp. There we go, the basic formula for every case. It's standard. We have precedent to work with, experience. Just like with Agent Moobs and Casey, I had prior experience. I had precedent to follow. But with you there's none of that. It's all new and dangerous and terrifying, and it makes me feel empowered and exposed and stripped bare all at the same time.

"And yes," The words felt bitter on her tongue, "I freaked out when that idiot I used to work with spotted us. Know what I should have done? Taken your hand..." Jane held one such specimen above their laps, staring at it sadly, "And said yes, this is my girlfriend Doctor Maura Isles and smiled at him and waved him on his way, that's what I should have done. And I'm so sorry that I didn't have the guts to do that. I really am. I'm terrified out of my mind. This has been something I've fantasised secretly about for so long and now that it is... Was happening, I couldn't handle it. I can't see myself as being able to measure up to you. I try, I do my best. I'm a Detective and you're an _Isles_. _Doctor_ Isles, Maura. All I could see was your Mom's disapproving looks and your Dad being disappointed and I chickened out on you. I turned my back which is something I have sworn to myself I would never do to you, no matter what, because I know how many people have let you down.

Jane shuffled forwards on the sofa and Maura somehow managed to get her arms around the Detective even despite her protests that she wanted to finish speaking first, "You deserve someone who will cherish you, who is prepared to take your hand and walk proudly with you wherever they go, you deserve someone who is going to treat you with the respect and adoration that you deserve, and I want to be that person. I should've told you all this a long time ago, but I just... I suck, I know... And, I tried to show you every day with stupid little things rather than just tell you... Maybe I sucked at that too... I don't know if even half of what I've said makes sense, I'm not good with things like this; you know that better than anyone... Maybe I've let my chance go, maybe this speech won't change that, but I had to try. I had to ask, no... I had to _beg_ for a second chance."

And even as Maura pulled Jane into a gentle kiss, running her soft lips over the slightly wet, parted set of the Detective, Jane whispered, "So, please, forgive me Maura."

After perhaps ten seconds of relishing the feeling of Jane's lips on hers once again, after pulling her lover so close to her body that they might have looked like the same entity to an outsider, Maura leaned back just enough to say, "Jane... You had me at _Agent Moobs_."

Jane gaped at her for a moment, bottom jaw swinging down comically as she processed the comment. Maura bit her lip, worrying the tender flesh, terrified that her joke had been horribly mistimed and that it might make the Detective think she hadn't taken everything she said so seriously that if she hadn't broken the moment with that comment, she might just have passed out...

But then Jane's lip curled into a smile, and then she started laughing, a genuine belly laugh that rocked them both. Maura cupped her best friend's cheeks, which were still a little red and cold from exposure to the elements, and smiled back at her, "I forgive you Jane. We have... A lot of work to do, so many things to discuss... And as for my parents, they can no longer dictate my life. But..." She kissed her again, "That was beautiful Jane, and if it is possible, I think I have fallen even more in love with you."

Maura's eyebrow flicked upwards and she tipped her head to one side, considering the woman lying awkwardly against her, "And now that you're here with me, you are not leaving again. From now on, we are going to act rationally, like adults. We will talk to one another, we will not..." Jane smoothed her thumb over Maura's jaw and nodded, "We won't run. Not anymore, no more running," She kissed the spot her thumb left bare and sighed against it, feeling Maura's arms snake around her back and squeeze, "We're in this together Jane, it's time we started showing it."

**A/N:** I can't thank you all enough for your kind reviews, I'm glad you're still enjoying this story. Thank you all so much, we're winding down now, there's only a few more chapters left to go, and I'm glad you're all here to read them.


	37. A Way With Words

These twice weekly sessions with Doctor Jessica Hartman always begin with the redhead shuffling her vast amounts of paperwork around on her large, oak desk, pausing now and then to glance up at the Detective over the rim of a rather daring pair of green glasses which contrasted starkly with her hair and drew the onlooker's attention with ease. The noise of all those sheets of paper clamoring for her Doctor's unbridled attention always struck Jane as an invitation to battle. And what a war they had waged against one another these past few months.

Granted, Jane had been shocked and quite pleased to see that the previous departmental dusty old shrink had been replaced with this vibrant, younger woman who wouldn't look out of place strutting down a runway in Paris or Milan. However, it soon became clear that Doctor Hartman took everything about her job seriously and was dedicated to the rules and regulations with a diligence that rivaled even Doctor Maura Isles. Rizzoli didn't have anything in particular against these Doctors; they were just doing their jobs after all, but that didn't mean she had to _like_ attending their evaluations.

In the past, these sessions meant sitting there feeling like a complete fool whilst Doctor Frederick took copious amounts of notes despite the fact she barely opened her mouth.

Hartman was having none of that. Communication, communication, _communi-fucking-cation_ was the order of the day, all day, every day. Jane hated having to spell out exactly how she felt or write down her thoughts or explain just why she couldn't sleep at night due to the nightmares consistently reaching into her mind with clammy fingers and shaking her awake. Those were private things she didn't want to air in the office of a stranger. It was difficult enough opening up to Maura and her family, never mind this woman who sat there with a blank expression and scribbled notations in shorthand that Jane couldn't even sneak a glance at because her writing was so freaking tiny and then asked her incredibly irritating questions that she struggled to answer.

In the end, against her better judgment, she actually ended up sort of, kinda, _maybe_ liking the Doctor, with all her eccentric brightly colored clothing and drastically clashing glasses and annoyingly accurate observations. Not that she would ever tell Hartman that, hell no, but still, she appreciated the techniques the woman suggested she employ to overcome the suffocating nightmares and push beyond the barrier she had placed up so strategically to hide her emotions and be able to talk to the people she loved most.

Despite the Doctor's obsession with communication and her tendency to push the Detective into opening up against her will, Jane found that there was at least some common ground between them. Surprisingly, they shared a similar sense of humor, and utilized the art of sarcasm to its fullest advantage. Hartman may not be able to directly voice her annoyance for fear of losing her polished professionalism, but Jane had grown to notice and predict the tiny fluttering in her expression that hinted at the irritation just below the surface. It had become a ritual for the two women to engage in a war of wills that extended far beyond Jane's trauma and into the realms of one-up-man-ship.

Detective Rizzoli reveled in generating a caustic remark from the almost unflappable Doctor. At first it had been her way of rebelling against the treatment prescribed _'in her best interests,'_ but now it was more of an affectionate game. Jane didn't quite feel the same need to keep the Doctor from prying into her thoughts and emotions as she had done originally, and had become adept at exposing enough of her thoughts to keep Hartman from losing what sliver of patience she retained for the stubborn Detective.

The younger woman raised her eyebrows as she read through the assignment she had given to Jane at the end of their last session. Rizzoli looked on with a narrowed gaze as the Doctor casually thumbed through the two sheets of loose paper that Jane hurriedly scribbled her notes upon the night before. Jane knew exactly what that expression meant and hid a satisfied smirk. The Doctor was pleased. And she had every right to be so. When these sessions first began the redhead had been suitably appalled at the lack of care Jane previously received after the traumatic and hectic events that had plagued both her personal life and career.

If she were to be entirely honest and upfront with herself, Jessica was surprised that the young Detective was as emotionally stable as she was, considering all that she had been through. Even the fact that she was still standing, still able to function with a semblance of her former self was testament to the inner strength that resided within her patient.

Jane Rizzoli was the type of woman who resented psychiatric treatment, who regarded the entire process as being a waste of her valuable time, and that even the simple act of attending these sessions was a confession of weakness. Spilling forth her problems into the waiting ears of a stranger was something that turned the Detective's stomach. After three sessions with the Jane, Hartman had been close to transferring the case to someone with more experience. She had only recently been appointed as the departmental psychiatrist and hadn't yet handled anyone who had suffered as much as Detective Rizzoli.

It was a matter of both women growing to understand that this journey could be the defining moment of their careers thus far. Doctor Hartman felt the burning need to heal, and so she decided to continue working with the traumatized Detective. And she was so incredibly thankful that she made that call. It was clear that Jane now trusted her, or at least trusted her enough to confide in her, and she never even considered that a possibility during the early stages.

"Well Jane," Doctor Hartman said slowly, dragging the tip of a pencil under one particular line that had reached out and captured her attention before glancing up at her patient, "I have to say, I'm impressed." She quirked her head to one side with a slight smirk, "Who knew you had such a way with words?"

Jane chuckled lightly, raising a scarred hand to her mouth and rubbing along the side of her jaw. She had previously admitted that even merely lifting the corners of her lips into a smile for too long started a twinge of pain in there somewhere that transformed into an ache soon after. "Well," the Detective said, "You _inspired _me." The mocking nature of her drawl might have offended the Doctor in any other instance, but she had grown used to the prickly Detective, and only responded with a roll of her eyes.

"Good, I'm so glad we're finally reaching an understanding Detective, it's only taken… What?"

Jane growled, "Two months, six days and…" The brunette paused for a second, mentally calculating the final piece of the puzzle before triumphantly adding, "Twenty one hours since we first began."

"Not that you've been keeping track or anything…" Hartman smirked.

Jane shrugged, "Not at all," she quipped back.

"I'm pleased with your progress Jane, you've done everything I've asked of you and more. You should be proud of what you've managed to achieve in this short period of time. It's an ongoing process, we know that…" At the first sign of the blush creeping up Jane's cheeks the Doctor changed tactic, "But now that you've opened up to your family again, you're more invested in these sessions with me… And I'm assured that your physiotherapy's been going extremely well…"

Rizzoli shifted in her chair, slightly uncomfortable with the praise, "Yeah, apparently my shoulder's almost as good as new. Everything else has pretty much healed up; it twinges now and then but aside from that…" She shrugged, "I'm relieved to be able to take care of myself again."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully, removing her glasses and giving them a thorough polish, allowing Jane a moment with her own mind, "I think we can agree that your independence is of utmost importance to you, I'm glad you feel like you've captured that again," After another brief few seconds of silence, she added, "And how is your relationship with Doctor Isles? From reading your assignment it seems like it's going rather well…" Hartman couldn't resist lifting the tone of her voice at the end of that sentence suggestively. After wrestling with the Detective's residual concerns about her sexuality and indeed helping her understand that this was a positive change in her life, she did feel invested in their relationship somewhat. Despite the fact some of her colleagues may regard that as being unprofessional, Jessica would be the first to admit that her methodology had never been what was universally known as _'orthodox.'_

The blush that had been threatening to light up the Detective's face now came to fruition. She cleared her throat loudly before jerking her head in the affirmative, "Yeah… Uh, it's going good. I wrote it down for you…"

Hartman smiled, "Yes, but I would like to hear it directly _from _you Detective," she replied sweetly, much to Jane's chagrin.

"After that discussion we had a few back, the one I told you about," Jessica nodded and Rizzoli pressed on, "We've been talking more, making sure that if something is bothering us we tell the other about it. I remind myself every day that I wasn't the only one affected by this… That Maura and my family suffered too. It's been hard, I'm not gonna deny that… But it's also been worth it. I can look forward to things now. A couple of months ago I couldn't see myself ever being able to say that, but I can. I can say that I'm looking forward to experiencing and doing things with Maura, things that…" Jane paused, feeling herself start to choke up, "That I might never have gotten the courage to ask her to do. I'm looking forward to celebrating TJ's birthday, I'm looking forward to going back to work, I'm looking forward to…"

Detective Jane Rizzoli pushed back her unruly hair and really looked at the woman who helped her through so much. She met her eyes and stared, unblinking, willing her to see the emotion held within, "I'm looking forward to living. And I have to thank you for pushing me in the right direction with that."

Although touched, Doctor Hartman shrugged off the gratitude with a gentle smile and said, "I'm just doing my job Detective. One last thing before time's up…" She glanced down at the sheet of paper she previously marked with her pencil and sought out the highlighted line, "This… Part of your assignment, this bit…" She tapped one finger against the paper and shook her head.

Jessica quoted, "_'After going through something like that, it's okay to be lost for a little while, Doctor Hartman, Maura, my family, they all taught me that being lost is okay. The most important thing is to find your way back, and I think I've finally done that.'_"

After falling silent, the Doctor drew something towards her and lifted a pen, holding it in the air for a moment before signing her name with a flourish. She held it out to the Detective, who took it from her with a confused look.

"That line has convinced me to sign this form," Hartman said, "You'll still attend these sessions with me, but you'll also begin the process of re-introduction to active duty as soon as you've been cleared physically," The grin that broke out on Jane's face was wide enough to make the Doctor laugh out loud, "As I said, this is an ongoing process, but you're ready for the next stage. Congratulations Detective, get outta here and celebrate."

* * *

**A/N:** So sorry for the delay. We've got about two or three chapters to go, and then that's that! Hope you enjoyed.


	38. Anywhere But Here

In a little over two weeks, Detective Jane Rizzoli would be reassigned to the Homicide Department. Granted, she wouldn't technically be allowed to work actively out in the field, but she was delighted at the prospect of being able to help with casework again. Filing. Detective Rizzoli was on cloud nine just thinking about_ filing_ for chrissakes. Even though her younger brother Frankie had been assigned to the squad in her absence to assist with the overflowing amount of cases Frost and Korsak were left to handle themselves, Jane knew that they had been struggling with deadlines the past couple of months.

Jane wasn't afraid to admit that she couldn't quite decide which of her emotional responses to the looming date was the strongest. Some days all she could focus on was the excitement and pride she felt knowing that soon enough she would be back behind her desk where she belonged, waiting impatiently for the day her Doctor signed her off for active duty. Other days, the not so good days, Jane was physically weakened by nerves.

However, as the days passed and the day drew nearer, Jane realised that the nerves were slowly lessening as opposed to growing. She took that as a good sign. It was also evident to the Detective that Maura was just as conflicted with regards to her returning to her position with the Boston Police Department. Often, Jane caught the Doctor staring at her with something resembling stark panic in her eyes. It was slightly disconcerting to worry that Maura might not have enough faith in her to believe she would be able to deal with going back to work, but Jane knew that Maura trusted her decision and her abilities. Indeed, Maura's fears lay with the very real possibility that what happened just a few months ago could easily repeat itself in the future. Now that they were a couple it was obvious that these worries had to be addressed as and when they arose.

That particular morning, Jane saw that wide eyed, panicky look on Maura's face once too often. Having only been awake for twenty minutes in total, Jane would be the first to admit that her patience levels were not as high as they might have been, but this had gone on long enough. She couldn't very well allow Maura to worry herself sick about something that was an inevitable factor in their lives. Jane was a Homicide Detective. There were risks, and Maura knew them all like the back of her hand. Now was one of those times Jane truly wished Maura didn't have such a wealth of knowledge of every possible statistic relating to the dangers of her occupation, and the injuries she could potentially have.

Jane narrowed her gaze as she lifted her scalding cup of black coffee to her lips, letting the steam fill her nostrils before taking a careful sip, never removing her eyes from Maura. Her morning coffee had become even more of a blessing now that the colder weather was starting to make itself felt and known. It wasn't quite time to start wearing warm hats and scarves, but Jane, having lived in Boston all of her life, knew that it definitely was approaching on the horizon.

Truthfully, Jane used to dread the cold winter months. When she worked undercover for Vice all those years ago she damn near froze to death doing her nightly rounds. And after Hoyt pierced her hands with his scalpels, the cold was nothing short of a menace. Jane lost count of how many nights she spent clutching a hot water bottle between her palms, praying and bargaining with anyone or anything who might just be listening for the gnawing pain to lessen enough to let her get some sleep. Thankfully, the ache that became more pronounced during winter was now bearable. If asked outright, she would most likely never admit it, but Jane now relished this time of year. It meant more nights at Maura's, watching the TV under a blanket and drinking hot chocolate. She still dreaded her shifts in the driving snow, attempting to secure crime scenes whilst the evidence was being slowly destroyed was a right royal pain in the ass, but the negatives were now far outweighed by the rewards.

However, the mornings were often bitterly cold. Jane was sitting at the kitchen island with her pajama bottoms tucked into a thick pair of socks as well as a jumper thrown over her night shirt in spite of the fact Maura's home was always at a recommended temperature determined by some investigator Jane heard her mention once or twice. The Doctor herself had apparently awoken at the crack of dawn for when Jane eventually dragged her mind into the world of the living; Maura was nowhere to be seen. She soon realised she had spent most of the last couple of hours cleaning. This usually wouldn't have bothered Jane, but she could instantly tell when she exited the bedroom they now shared that Maura was using her current obsession with cleanliness as a distraction.

Friday morning and Maura had the day off work and here she was, scrubbing at the kitchen floor like a woman possessed. Jane watched her girlfriend attacking one specific area that was already absolutely spotless and found her mind moving from one conclusion to the next. Perhaps Maura liked to dedicate her personal days to ensuring her standards of cleanliness were sustained, perhaps Maura had always conducted this morning routine and Jane had simply never noticed it, perhaps she was reading too much into this. This logical reasoning did nothing to dispel the concern beginning to take root within the Detective. She made the decision to speak up in such a way that Maura would not feel like she was being judged or questioned in her own home.

Clearing her throat, Jane peered down and commented, "Y'know, if I'd known you turned into Cinderella every Friday I'd have made you my girlfriend a lot sooner..." Maura glanced up and seemed to stare right through the Detective with a forced smile before returning her attention to the task at hand. "I think you missed a spot," Jane muttered wryly, raising an eyebrow at the gleaming floor.

When Maura stood Jane couldn't help but let her eyes wander over the beautiful body before her. The Doctor was wearing what she regarded as casual attire, which consisted of a pair of gray slacks paired with a deep red, short sleeved blouse that complimented the contours of Maura's body wonderfully. Whilst facing the sink as she rinsed her hands, Maura retorted, "Studies have shown that around 60% of people claim that their preferred time to dispose of unwanted or unnecessary clutter is in the spring. And," Maura added, turning to face Jane with that same glazed look on her face, "Close to 90% of respondents said that they note a clear improvement in their mood when their house has been cleaned properly."

Jane cocked her head to one side, pretending to be interested in the information Maura was currently regaling her with, but her focus was solely directed on the inflection in her girlfriend's tone of voice as opposed to what she was actually saying. She decided that this flat, monotonous speech was quite unlike Maura, who was usually so animated when sharing her facts and statistics with Jane and indeed, anyone she came into contact with.

"Maura," The Detective interjected, noticing the way Maura's hands were insistently and agitatedly fidgeting. As the Doctor had once said she rarely fidgets. This was another glaringly obvious sign that something was bothering her, something she didn't want to say aloud.

"… Some put the figure at 54%, others a little higher, but most researchers agree that about half of American households are thoroughly cleaned weekly, if not daily…"

"Maura!" Jane said, a little more loudly this time. As Maura stopped talking and stood there with her lips slightly parted as though waiting for the opportunity to be put to use again, Jane pushed back the chair and came around to grasp Maura by the upper arms, forcing their eyes to meet.

Maura bit her lip as Jane tenderly gripped her chin between her fingers. For a moment, roles were reversed. When their friendship was still in its teething stages and neither woman was quite sure of how much they could really open up to one another, Maura had held Jane in her hand this way to inspect the damage to her nose. It took only those few seconds for them both to quietly realise that their friendship, though young, was real and honest.

"You're worried about me going back to work, aren't you?" Jane stated plainly, with no hint of accusation in her voice. Instead, she sounded gentle, which matched the slow movement of her thumb beneath Maura's chin, a soothing action she scarcely noticed she was even doing.

For a moment, Jane thought Maura might try to avoid admission. For someone who couldn't lie without erupting in hives, the Doctor was quite adept at avoidance and manipulating her replies so that she wasn't quite being untruthful, but still managed to refrain from being completely honest. But then the façade crumbled and Maura sighed, puffing a few strands of hair on Jane's face, "Yes," she replied, "I'm worried, I'm terrified." Maura blurted out.

"What can I do?" Jane asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Maura chuckled tearily, "I don't think there is anything either of us can do. I knew this day was coming, I simply didn't realise how difficult it would be to think of you walking back out there."

At a loss of what to do next, Jane pulled her girlfriend against her and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, holding her there whilst she soothingly ran a hand through the soft hair tucked beneath her chin.

"How about we go away somewhere next weekend? Hmm?" Jane whispered, "Maybe that beach house we went to a couple years ago? Or maybe that cabin you were talking about?"

Maura hummed into Jane's chest as she thought about taking yet more time off work. She hated to abandon her duties and her colleagues to the mercy of Doctor Pike, especially since she had only just caught up on everything she missed during the time she spent with Jane after her ordeal. It would be bordering on the irresponsible for her to leave again. There was a moment where Maura briefly considered saying no, but then she remembered the promise she privately made not long ago. If Jane tried to reach out to her, then she would be there. This was a chance for them to escape the pressure of Jane's approaching return to work, and an ideal opportunity for them to have some time to themselves, a rare occurrence these days.

"What do you think? Where do you wanna go?" Jane said again.

It took around twenty seconds for Maura to respond, and when she did, it was with one of the shortest sentences she had ever uttered.

She tucked her head more securely into Jane's neck as she murmured, "Anywhere but here."


	39. We We We

**A/N:** For the interests of the next couple of chapters, let us pretend that at some point I did in fact mention the precise location of this lake and the cabin that sits by it. I have little to no knowledge of Boston and the places surrounding it, and I apologize for that lack of authenticity. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless!

"Jane, no!" Maura snapped, tripping over her own two feet as she frantically backed away from her grinning girlfriend, who was approaching her with a rather predatory gleam in her eyes, "That water is going to be freezing, there is absolutely no way that either of us should put even one foot in... JANE!"

Maura finished her sentence in little more than a shriek as she found herself being dragged none too gently towards the edge of the water with Jane gazing back at her with the widest, most shit eating grin she had ever seen her wearing.

Jane quickly dipped her head to make sure her jeans were rolled up to a high enough level to prevent them from getting too wet, and flashed another smile at Maura, who looked adorable in her attempts to free herself from Jane's grasp and escape the oncoming threat of the water.

"JANE CLEMENTINE RIZZOLI DON'T YOU DARE...!" Maura howled as her girlfriend threatened to push her into the shimmering lake before safely grasping her around the waist at the very last second and keeping her upright, laughing wildly at the horrified and indignant expression fixed on Maura's face.

After a moment, Maura calmed down enough to realise that the water was not as cold as she had first anticipated. Indeed, it was actually quite soothing against her aching feet. Nevertheless, she gave Jane a dirty look as she hoisted her own pair of casual jeans up from the danger zone with an eloquent grumble. Jane stood by her side with her arms folded, looking down at Maura neatly folding her jeans with a mildly amused look.

Acutely aware that Maura's eye line was conveniently at waist level, Jane gave a casual thrust of her hips forward, pushing herself more directly into her girlfriend's view. She heard the sharp intake of breath from below, she sensed the tensing of Maura's back and she reflected on the effect she so easily and readily had on Maura with even the slightest provocation.

When Maura straightened she was met with an indulgent smirk, to which she responded to by swatting Jane's arm playfully, "You're incorrigible," she muttered softly, allowing her hand to linger on the defined muscles beneath her fingertips, and it was her turn to smile when she felt Jane suppress a shudder at her touch.

Emboldened by their secluded surroundings, and the general state of relaxation they had both been overcome by as soon as they left the city behind, Jane blurted out the next thought that entered her head without screening it first, much to Maura's shy delight.

"You look absolutely..." Jane floundered for a moment, flushing from the tips of her ears all the way down her chest as Maura looked demurely into her eyes, patiently waiting for her to finish, "Breathtaking," she eventually whispered, reaching for Maura's hand and releasing a trembling sigh of relief when Maura smiled widely at her and entwined her lovely fingers with hers.

"Thank you Jane," Maura murmured softly, pressing the tiniest of kisses to a scar on Jane's upper arm before focusing her gaze on Jane's eyes, which were slightly glossy with emotion. Maura found herself searching for the correct term of endearment to send back at Jane, for she was so monumentally overcome and giddy with joy at their progress and Jane's recovery and the way she was smiling down at her that for a long moment, no such words came.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Maura returned, "You look... Radiant," and felt her heart swell with affection when Jane ducked her head and tucked it in against her chest, blushing an even darker shade of red. It was true. All of Jane's efforts to return her body to its former glory had paid off, with interest. If it weren't for the scars Maura wasn't sure anyone would be able to guess what she had suffered.

Jane felt herself grinning idiotically at nothing in particular as they stood sentry, looking out at the water, which was glittering in the light of the setting sun. The natural ease with which Jane slung an arm around Maura's shoulders and drew her into the warmth and comfort of her embrace struck them almost simultaneously and each smiled to themselves at their private, and yet shared, realization. It led Maura to snake her own arm around Jane's neat waist and give her a squeeze.

After a lull in conversation where they simply reveled in the wholesome beauty of their surroundings, the silence that was broken only by their breathing, and how right it felt to be standing in one another's arms, Jane commented, "Sure is purdy here ain't it?" in a heavily accented drawl, which drew a bark of surprised laughter to bubble from Maura's unsuspecting throat.

Maura gazed up at Jane whilst she laughed, and the Detective felt tears pricking her already shining eyes. There was something so wonderful about having the privilege to bear witness to Maura Isles letting go and laughing, and when she was the cause of it, it was even better. Standing there in a pair of lightly colored jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt, Maura looked far younger than her age, and the aura of innocence around her grew even more pronounced.

As her laughter tapered off into an adoring smile, Maura fiddled with the edge of Jane's shirt collar, "Not as _purdy _as something else I could mention..." she forced her voice to sound casual, but the genuine emotion behind her statement was unavoidable.

Jane stiffened slightly, and then relaxed again, dropping a kiss onto the very crown of Maura's head, remembering who was paying this compliment, "You're too kind," she husked, burying her face in the tumble of blonde curls that smelled faintly fruity, just like the shampoo Maura used.

"I am aren't I," Maura said smugly, loving the grumbling in Jane's chest that she could feel as her girlfriend chuckled heartily.

With the soothing motion of Jane's hands rubbing up and down her back, Maura completely lost the thread of what she was about to say next. When she came back to her senses she noticed that her feet were now freezing, and so she tugged Jane out of the water and back onto the tiny stretch of rocky shore where their blanket and towels lay in wait.

As they dried off, Maura spent a few minutes considering how best to broach the subject of the looming deadline. Part of her incentive for coming out here was to discuss this with Jane, in an open and frank manner, put both of their feelings on the matter out there so they could work out how to deal with it. Now that the moment had arrived, Maura was at a bit of a loss.

The intensity of Jane Rizzoli's eyes on her face soon broke into her reverie, and she looked up to find her girlfriend staring at her with a crooked smile playing at the corner of her lips. Maura blushed at being caught so easily.

"Whatever it is you're thinking about Maura, just say it," Jane said, "It's okay. I'm not gonna be offended, and I'm not gonna take off." Her eyes were warm, but full of resolve. Jane let her hand rest her hand firmly on Maura's thigh, giving her physical as well as emotional reassurance.

Doctor Isles took a deep breath, and then said, without looking at Jane, "I love you. You know those are not words I toss around freely, you understand, better than anyone, exactly what it takes for me to trust someone so explicitly that I could even bring myself to utter those words."

Maura looked up and was struck mute by the love radiating from Jane. The understanding in her eyes, the tender expression she was wearing, the gentle strokes of her thumb across Maura's thigh, it all gave her strength to surge onwards.

"I've said them to you before, and I have meant them, with everything I have inside of me, which to some people might not seem like much, but I have meant them. And now that I know you feel the same way, it's so liberating to be allowed to say them without fear or inhibitions holding me back from showing you how much I truly mean them.

Maura snatched up Jane's hands, which had been adorned with more suffering and scars than she could bear to dwell upon, and held them, "I love you Jane Rizzoli, and so I am concerned, I am terrified, at the prospect of you returning to work. Dangerous people are the cornerstone of your job, without them, neither of us would have much cause for an occupation," They shared a wry smile, "And they appear to take an inherent fascination with both us, more so you.

"Add that to the fact that you often allow your heart to rule your head, and that you can be so unbelievably reckless, and there is potential for disaster at every single turn. But I respect your job, I respect and admire the manner in which you handle yourself on the job. You truly are an _outstanding _Detective,"

Jane's mouth curved into a gracious smile. If there was any worthwhile compliment that could be directed her way, she would much prefer it be about her job than anything else.

"Now that we're a couple Jane, I have to ask you to take less risks, I have to ask you to think before you rush into life threatening situations. I would never try to make you feel guilty about what you do, or pressure you into changing, but please..." Maura fought through the sobs welling up, "Please, think about us, what we have, before you go storming into things that you cannot possibly control..."

A set of strong arms went around Maura and she found herself buried in the softness of Jane's chest, her nose slightly squashed up against her shirt, sobbing unabashedly. Jane let her cry. Jane just held here there, and let her cry, and Maura had never felt so safe, so wanted, as she did in that moment.

"We're both gonna have to make changes, I understand that," Jane said in a low voice, when Maura had been reduced to the odd tear and stifled sniff, and her Detective pushed her back a little, just enough to be able to meet her eyes unflinchingly, "In fact, I think I'm rather looking forward to putting both of interests first all the time, 'cause, for the past few years, although we were closer than best friends... It was still _'I I I,'_" when Maura looked confused, she clarified, "Now it's _'we we we,' _and that's what I have always wanted."

The air had cooled off again and so Jane lifted one of the spare blankets and tossed it expertly around Maura's shoulders, allowing some of it to land across her own lap, and then continued as though she hadn't paused.

"And hey, so what if I was a little reckless in the past, I was young and naive, desperate to prove myself…" Jane shrugged, "And then I met you, and I tried to curb some of those instincts of mine that tell me to run into a burning building without so much as a second thought, the same ones that tell me that it's okay to drop my gun and walk into a hostage situation unarmed so long as nobody else gets hurt but me. It's hard for me to ignore that voice that tells me those kinda things, but I have always tried, for you, because I love you.

You're right, now that I can just tell you that, and do this," Jane kissed Maura then, caressing her upper lip with an insistent tongue before pulling back and kissing along the fading freckles on her pink cheeks, "Without even thinking about it... Means that I have to take a sec to think about whether what I'm about to do is worth losing what we have."

Jane bit her lip, furrowed her brow thoughtfully and then conceded, "Can't really think of any situation that would be worth that right now... But the principle still stands, I will think before I act, and I will not take unnecessary risks if they can be helped. That's a promise Maur, that is a hand on heart, gods honest, scout's honor, promise."


End file.
